Can I Sit There? Everwhere Else is Full
by Slytherclaw96
Summary: What if Malfoy sat in Harry's compartment instead of Ron on that first train ride? Join Draco and Harry as they find out about friendship, trust and the Dark Order. No slash. Year 1.
1. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this. If I did, I'd be a millionaire.

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**PROLOGUE: I'VE ALWAYS WONDERED**

_The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present.  
- Anais Nin_

September 1st. That day always comes back to haunt me.

As a young wizard it was the day I would leave the Dursleys and go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Now, as I help to rebuild the school from the Battle of Hogwarts, I think of that first day in the wizarding world. Getting my supplies. A wand from Ollivander's, books from Flourish and Blott's, Hedwig from Eelope's Owl Emporium, and robes from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

I notice, from the corner of my eye, a certain blonde head going up to Dumbledore's office. I don't really bother, he didn't kill Dumbledore, he could have turned us in when we were taken to his Manor.

I've made my peace with Malfoy, but we will never be friends; there's seven years of bitterness and schoolboy resentment, then there's the difference in our beliefs. Wizards and witches classify themselves by which side they're on.

With me killing his master, that is certainly not an act of friendship.

Like the one he offered me that first day at Hogwarts...

"_You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there."_

_Malfoy stuck out his hand, asking for Harry's friendship, but he denied._

"_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."_

He didn't like that.

That first train ride. The first September 1st that meant something. I remember that first ride; meeting Ron and being introduced to the simpler, more obvious things of the wizard's world, the things that Hagrid forgot. Ron and I were fast friends, and I proved that I wanted to stay friends. Malfoy came in, insulted Ron's family and lack of money, asked for my friendship, I said no. He wouldn't go away, they tried to take some food, and "Scabbers" bit Goyle.

Nice ride.

From the first day at Madam Malkin's I did not like him very much. His arrogance and bulling demeanour hardly appealed to me, and insulting my new friend wasn't a very smart move either.

Later growing up to be a Death Eater didn't exactly make his previous offer any more tempting.

I only admired one thing about him; Malfoy could never kill.

That may be cowardice, but I saw it as a sign that he could change, that he wasn't _pure_ evil. Just a bastard.

I feel immensely sorry for him; Malfoy had talked the talk his whole life, but in our sixth year, he was asked to walk the walk for the first time and it was absolutely terrifying.

He was told to kill his Headmaster, he couldn't.

He was told to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts, under the threat of death of his family and himself, he complied.

He was told to torture and to be a loyal Death Eater, under threat of death of him and his family, he complied.

I've always wondered what would have happened if Ron didn't come into my compartment on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago.

What if Malfoy was there instead?

Would I tell him to go away?

Or would I be his friend?

Would he change, would he grow up to be a better person?

Or would I become a worse person, and follow him?

Would I be in Gryffindor or Slytherin, or somewhere else altogether?

And what of Ron and Hermione?

Would they still be my friends, or would I follow Malfoy's lead and make fun of them?

And how would I take on Tom?

How would I attempt to defeat him? I had done it by remembering all those that I loved that he killed, and all those that would continue to die.

But what if I went after him because I wanted him out of the way, for a new Dark Lord, Malfoy getting to me?

Would I be the next Dark Lord, another Tom Riddle?

Would I go on to make Horcruxes and kill the Dursleys, make my own Death Eaters, and take on Voldemort on a more even footing?

I'd like to think that I wouldn't, but I will never know what would have happened.

If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a damn thing, nothing.

I learned from Dumbledore's Pensieve, your childhood is very important. It shows who you are, and who you will grow to be.

I know I can't change the past.

I don't _want_ to change the past, but it's something I've always wondered...

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**Okay, I've been asked about what the hell this is. It's basically Harry, in the present, thinking about one of the many turning points in his life: if he'd taken Draco's friendship. The rest of the story is kind of his thoughts, about what could have happened. ****These are youtube links for songs I think fit the individual chapters. It's just how I write. Sometime after I finish Year 1, I'll also be rewriting the entire thing; I think it's crap. Sorry but the later chapters are _MUCH_ better.**

**.com/watch?v=_MvpoixH0RU**

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**CHAPTER ONE: PLATFORM 9¾**

_I have often dreamed  
Of a far-off place  
Where a hero's welcome  
Will be waiting for me  
Where the crowds will cheer  
When they see my face  
And a voice keeps saying  
This is where I'm meant to be  
- Lucas Grabeel _"Go the Distance"

"Think you're being funny, do you?" the ticket man asked rather annoyed, and walked off muttering, "Platform 9 and ¾, what nonsense."

"-packed with Muggles, of course," a red haired mother said to her group of four boys and a girl clinging to her arm and who only Harry could guess as her husband on her other arm.

"Muggles?" Trying to be sneaky about it, Harry followed them. Getting closer he saw that they not only had a trunk on their trolleys but _owls_.

"What's the platform number, now?" the mother asked in a way that made it clear that she wanted to know if they did.

"Platform 9¾," the little girl piped up. "Please, Mum. Can't I go?"

"No, Ginny. Next year you can, this year it's Ron's turn."

They came to a stop before platforms 9 and 10, just as Harry did. "Alright, Arthur, you go on first."

A balding, red haired man detached himself from his wife and simply walked into the wall, disappearing.

"Percy, you next," she continued.

"Excuse me!" Harry called to the red haired mother, before Percy started.

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you... how do you..." Harry struggled trying to explain that her husband had disappeared through a brick wall and still sound sane.

"How do you get onto the Platform?" she prompted kindly.

"Yes!" exclaimed a relieved Harry.

"It's Ron's first time too," she pointed to the youngest boy of her group who was tall and gangling, having a long nose, big hands and feet and a smile aimed at Harry, "Just watch the twins. FRED!" she called.

"He's not Fred I am!" declared one of two that were clearly identical twins.

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?" said the other twin, shaking his head in mock shame.

"Fred, George, may you go through the barrier to show this young man how it's done?" pompously asked another red haired boy. This one had on horn-rimmed glasses and a badge on his t shirt that had a large "P" on it, and some smaller writing that proclaimed him to be a 'Perfect Pinhead.'

"Well, certainly, my dear Percy," George said with a flourishing bow, adopting a posh, upper class accent and a slight smirk.

"It would be just spiffing, old chap," Fred exclaimed, following suit.

Percy turned as red as his hair, as Harry fought back laughter, "There's nothing wrong with speaking_correctly_."

"Indeed there _isn't_."

"George!" scolded the mother.

A kid ran up to Fred and whispered something to him. "George, let's go," Fred tapped his twin's shoulder. "Lee Jordon's got a giant tarantula."

After another deep bow to both Percy and their mother, the twins took a hold of their trolleys and ran full speed into the brick wall. Just before they smashed into it; they disappeared onto – what Harry hoped – Platform 9¾. "See. If you're nervous, start at a bit of a run and don't hesitate. That's very important, if you think that you'll crash, you will."

Harry's mouth went dry, as if he were going to take a driver's test at a hundred kilometres an hour.

He started walking fast...

The Muggles were staring at him...

The wall was ten feet away...

Harry broke into a run...

The Muggles abruptly ignored him, as if he were invisible...

The wall was five feet...

It was too late...

He was going to crash...

Prepared for impact, Harry shut his eyes and ducked. He counted down the last seconds and waited for the _crash_ but it never came. He stopped and opened his eyes. A bright red steam engine was on the platform beyond the wall. Harry looked up and saw a large 9¾ signalling that he had made it. Remembering to flatten his fringe over his infamous scar, he started to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the platform.

There were kids from every age; little ones holding parents' hands, ones that seemed to be twenty who were in their last year at Hogwarts and ones that were in between. Many of them were carrying, or pushing animals on trolleys; cats of every colour, shape and size; owls from Hedwig's snowy white, to onyx black, to deep brown, and some that were bewitched to have all the colours of the rainbow; and rats and toads hopping and running everywhere. With all the animals there was the normal smells that they left in their midst, and there was the smell of fresh paint coming from the scarlet train. There was the whistle of the train; a large clock overhead read 10:45, the train would leave in fifteen minutes. There were kids talking, catching up with old friends and meeting new. There was the animals hooting, meowing, hissing and croaking-

"TREVOR!" yelled a boy about Harry's own age chasing a large green toad around the station, "COME BACK HERE!"

In addition, an older woman was chasing the boy, "NEVILLE!"

The procession of toad, boy and older woman made its way around the poles and groups of people for nearly ten minutes, catching odd looks and snickers from everyone. Harry looked on the sight slightly amused but looked down to see if there were more animals running about. He would hate to run over something before school started.

Taking care where to step Harry made his way over to the door where he handed over Hedwig to an older man to put in the Creatures' Carriage. Harry started looking for an empty compartment, he found one up near the front, but before settling down he dumped his trunk and started to walk the length of the train a few times; eager to see other witches and wizards.

Glancing in each of the compartments, he saw kids talking, reading, or just being bored. Nothing too exciting until he got to the back of the train; it seemed that the youngest were up front and the older in the back. A lot of the older kids were practicing magic; vanishing or conjuring something. One pair seemed to be having an argument and one of them whipped out their wand; there was a flash of blue light and his friend's hair was purple. Quite angry the other took out her wand, there was another flash of light, and he was on the floor, covered in boils. Moving on to the other compartments, there were kids who were practising jinxes and hexes on each other, duelling.

Then there was one girl who appeared to be Harry's age. He couldn't see her face because it was obscured by a large book, titled _Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_, and was waving her wand, saying some incantation. All that Harry could see was that she had quite a lot of bushy brown hair. Walking away he came across a compartment that said "Prefects' Carriage", deciding to move on he turned around and headed back to his own.

After returning to his compartment, which had remained empty – Harry learned on his walk that his was the last empty compartment – grabbed one end of his trunk and lifted it, heavy as it was, but Harry was used to worse at the Dursleys'. He struggled put his suitcase above. Heaving and pushing, trying to put it in a safe corner was harder than he thought. After a final shove, it fell off the rack and landed on the floor after bouncing off his head.

Harry swore loudly, rubbing the side of his head.

"Want a hand?" it was one of the red haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted

"Oi! Fred, C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help Harry's trunk as tucked away in an above compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry pushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" asked one of the twins suddenly, looking at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey, are you-"

"He _is_." said the first twin "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"_What_?" asked Harry who was starting to get quite agitated.

"_Harry Potter_," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him. I mean, yes I am." The two boys gawped at him, and Harry felt himself turn red. Then to his relief, a voice came floating in the train door.

"Fred? George?"

"Coming Mum."

With one last look at Harry the twins hopped off the train.

Looking out his window, Harry saw the red haired family again, all but the Perfect Pinhead.

The mother had just taken out a handkerchief and was pulling Ron towards her, "Ron, you've got something on your nose."

"_Mum _– geroff." He struggled against his mother, and broke free.

"Aaah, has Ikle Ronniekinns got somefink on his nosie?" teased one of the twins in a mock baby voice.

"Shut up," Ron responded on reflex.

"Where's Percy?" asked the mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy had changed into his swirling black Hogwarts robes, with red trimming. From where he was Harry could see that Percy hadn't noticed the change in his Prefect badge.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front with the Prefects and-"

"Oh, are you a _Prefect,_ Percy?" asked one of the twins with a aura of fake surprise. "You should have told us, we had _no_ idea!"

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it. Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Shut up," Percy advised, his ears turning red.

The mother kissed Percy on the cheek and he left to the Prefects' compartment. Then she looked sternly at the twins. "If I have one more letter, saying that you've – you've blown up a toilet or-"

"We've never blew up a toilet," said one twin indignantly.

"But thanks for the idea, Mum," the other twin put in.

"Not funny. And look after Ronald."

"Don't worry," said one of the twins seriously, before making fun of his younger brother, "Ikle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," Ron repeated, his ears turning red as well. He was as tall as his twin brothers and he tried to look intimidating, but his nose was still red where his mother had rubbed it.

"Guess who we saw on the train?"

Harry didn't want to watch as he was discussed like a celebrity. Harry sank into his seat and started to fall asleep. It was another flying motorcycle dream; Harry was starting to quite like these ones. He seemed to be held by someone or something as the flew throw the night sky, the stars swirled around and the midnight blue—

The jerk of the train pulled him out of the dream. Still quite tired and slightly annoyed he stretched his legs put his feet on part of the seat in front of him and closing his eyes, hoping he could fall back asleep. He started to think about what the school would be like; that boy in Madam Malkin's mentioned the houses and Hagrid had told him what they were about, Harry thought as he started to doze off again.

Sorted based on your personality and abilities.

_"Hufflepuff is a load o' duffers," "_I_ would leave, wouldn't you?"_

_"All my family's been in Slytherin." "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."_

Too tired to make the connection he simply let it float by, as the dark sky and the pinpoints of stars came back into view.

Then Harry remembered that there were two others that neither the boy from Madam Malkin's – Something Malfoy, was that his name? – or Hagrid mentioned, or two others that he couldn't remember. Oh, well. Harry didn't care anymore; he'd find out when he got there.

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	2. Draco, The Dare & Opinions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter: JKR does. Sad to say, I'm not her

**.com/watch?v=c6sYv_7R_ZY**

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**CHPATER TWO: DRACO, THE DARE & OPINIONS**

_I'm sick of all this waiting  
And people telling me what I should be  
What if I'm not so crazy  
Maybe you're the one that's wrong, not me  
So what you gonna do, what you gonna say  
When we're standing on top and do it our way  
You say we got no future  
You're living in the past  
So listen up, that's my generation!  
- Simple Plan_  
"Generation"

"Hey, Zabini!" Malfoy called out as a dark skinned boy walked in, gesturing to the seat on his right. He took the seat next to the blonde silently. Everyone was obviously waiting for something and eventually a girl named Pansy Parkinson burst out, "What'd you find out?" They had sent Blaise out to find gossip and such, as he would do at home.

"Well, quite a bit. There's the gossip of who's marring whom, kids, scandals and something a bit closer to home. Which would you like first?"

Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson asked for marriage gossip.

Theodore Nott demanded scandals.

Crabbe and Goyle said nothing; they were bodyguards nothing more.

Draco Malfoy just waved Blaise on; he never cared for gossip.

Blaise ran through the marriage and kids crap that only the girls were interested in first, then the scandals and who was in Azkaban. Finally he said, "I heard a rumour that Harry Potter was on the train," they weren't all that surprised, Potter was meant to be eleven now, "He's in our year and in compartment C-7," Blaise smirked at his bored friends before drawling the final word: "Alone."

For the first time in an hour, Draco sat up and looked interested. "If he's alone, I've got an idea." Nott looked at the young Malfoy curiously. "I dare one of you spineless gits to go into Potter's compartment and try to get him to _our _side."

They looked at each other like, _Malfoy's lost it, he's finally lost it_. Daphne looked at him and asked, "Draco, are you serious?" at the same time Blaise asked, "What do we get if we do it?"

Malfoy looked amused, "Well," he pointed at Daphne, "You, yes, and," pointing at Blaise, "you, the honour of having _the _Harry Potter as your friend, and introducing him to the wizarding world. You wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea, hmm?" Draco drawled on. "Without us he might actually make friends with Mudbloods, or the Weasleys even." He shuddered for effect, which worked better than he expected.

"He stopped the Dark Lord!" cried Theodore Nott.

"That he may have, but he could also be the new one. Who knows how he defeated the greatest wizard of all time, he might have greater powers than even the Dark Lord himself." Draco added smirking at his friend, _Theo, don't be an idiot. Potter might be as powerful as the Dark Lord was in his own Hogwarts years._

"This a dare?" questioned Zabini, pulling Malfoy out of his thoughts.

"Why, of course," Malfoy grinned evilly.

"Then 1, 2, 3. NOT IT!" they all cried. Malfoy stopped smiling when he saw that _he _would have to convince Potter.

"Fine." And with that Malfoy stopped out of their compartment, off to find C-7. When he looked at his compartment door, he groaned: Z-9. Could he get any farther away?

10 Minutes Later...

"Bloody hell!" he swore when he found C-7. The Potter boy had messy black hair, round framed glasses and even though his eyes were shut, Draco knew they were green. It was the boy from Madam Malkin's. He seemed to be sleeping though. Draco took a deep breath and opened the door, it seemed that Potter was just resting, for when the glass slid open he opened his eyes and looked at him, smiling slightly. "Hullo, can I sit here? Everywhere else's full."

Potter gestured to the seat opposite him and said, "Go ahead, the train's packed, I know." Draco took the seat and crossed his legs, "You might know this, but I'm Harry Potter."

Malfoy managed not to roll his eyes with some difficultly; he was totally Gryffindor. "Yeah, I know. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He held out his right hand and Potter, somewhat hesitantly shook it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Listen," Potter started, "I don't want to sound like an idiot—"

"You won't," Draco interjected. "Growing up with Muggles, you know almost nothing of magic. You're bound to sound like a Mudblood for a while."

"What's a Mudblood?" Harry mumbled the words at the floor, rather than speaking to Draco. Who, even thinking that Harry did sound like an idiot, took the question in stride.

"A Mudblood is a Muggle who somehow got a hold of magic. It's impossible; this kid has two _Muggle, non-magical_ parents and is magical himself or herself. Then, there's the other side of this: pure-bloods. A pure-blood is a witch or wizard that has only magical people in their family tree; no Muggles up there. You probably have a couple a hundred questions for me but first, I don't know if you remember, but I was the boy-"

"In Madam Malkin's," Harry finished.

"Yeah, err... so what next? Quiz me," Draco smirked at Harry.

"Hogwarts; the houses," voicing what he was thinking about for the whole train ride.

"There's basically four houses that this old hat sorts you into based on your personality and abilities. A thousand years ago the four founders – Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor – would chose those that they wanted to teach, now the Sorting Hat does. Slytherin would only take those that were as cunning, crafty, smart, and as ambitious as he was. That house's colours are green and silver, the emblem is a snake, like my ring, although that snake is in an 'S'. Hufflepuff would take those that were loyal and true and all that bullshit, the colours: yellow and black, and a badger is the emblem. Ravenclaw valued wit, intelligence and smarts, and the colours are blue and silver, the emblem is an eagle, I believe. Gryffindor is where all those that are too brave, those that will get themselves in trouble for no reason, that just to show off. Godric had no taste in colours, red and gold, ghastly if you ask me. The emblem's a lion. I'm going into Slytherin, where do you wanna go?" Draco rattled off at high-speed, wondering how many more like this there were.

"Um ..." Harry was starting to like this boy; maybe he had judged him too quickly. But he could barely keep up. "Slytherin, too maybe."

"Is that what I want to hear, or what you want?" Draco shot at him.

"Both, I think," Harry replied coolly, looking away from Draco's silver eyes and seeing where they were, Harry wondered how long he was out. The train had taken them out of London and they were speeding by fields of sheep, cows and other livestock.

Their eyes flicked to the door when a great clattering from the hall came to their compartment. A smiling, dimpled woman pushing a cart asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears?" Harry, who had no breakfast, jumped to his feet, realizing that he actually had money to spend, Draco looked up and walked a little slower smiling at Potter's eagerness. Harry picked out some of everything and sat back down, paying eleven sickles and seven knuts. Draco took some Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Liquorice Wands, paying four sickles and nine knuts, Draco took his seat across from Harry who was looking at a box of Bertie Bot's Every Flavour Beans.

"Watch it," Draco warned. "Have you had any of that stuff that you just bought?"

Harry shook his head no. "I didn't want to miss out on anything."

Fighting back a smile, Draco continued, "Well, those Beans. They mean _Every Flavour_ there's normal ones like chocolate, mint, blueberry. But then there's ear wax, bogey, vomit. So, buyer beware. And the Chocolate Frogs, toss me one." Harry picked one from his pile up and threw it, catching it, Draco nodded his thanks and pulled the tab off. Carefully prying it open, a literal chocolate frog jumped out at Harry, who let out a little shriek of surprise. "They have normally one good jump once you open them, then they're just chocolate. The cards--" Draco tapped the lid of the frog's container, whose head was being bitten off by Harry. "--are collectables, I have thousands, here's your first." He finished tossing the card back. "Who is it?" Draco asked smiling.

"Like you didn't look," Harry rolled his eyes as he looked down at the card:

_Harry Potter_

_July 31__st__ 1980 – the Present_

_The Boy-Who-Lived_

_Only person ever recorded to survive the Killing Curse._

"Very funny. What others are there?" Harry asked as he looked down at a picture of himself.

"Look through the pile, you have about twenty or so..."

"Knock yourself out," Harry told him, sweeping his hand over to the Chocolate Frogs.

"Thanks." Draco leaned over, picked about half of them, and started pulling tabs out. "Okay, let's see... You've got Dumbledore, Ravenclaw, Merlin, Gregory the Smarmy ..."

"Woah! Don't pop them all open!" Harry yelled at his new friend, who was being covered in jumping chocolates.

"Fine, here. I have all of these." Draco said tossing the four over. "Dumbledore is thought to be the greatest wizard but he's just being manipulative, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to get to you in some way. And, Harry, look at me." Harry was surprised at Draco's serious tone and use of his first name, he dropped Dumbledore and looked at him, "There is no Dark magic, there's no Light magic. Those are two terms that you will often hear, but neither of them exist. Magic is magic; it's all in the intent. In what you believe and how you use your magic. Many people believe that the Dark Lord," Draco's eyes drifted towards Harry's scar, "isn't dead, that he'll come back. When he does, the entire wizarding world will believe that you will either be the killer or the killed, the murdered or the murderer. You would have to use the Killing Curse," Draco tapped the card, "an Unforgivable, that would land you a lifetime cell in Azkaban. Would using that 'Dark Curse' be evil?"

"No," Harry said without thinking. Voldemort had killed his parents, and lots of others. If he rose again, he had to be stopped.

"Exactly, it's all how you believe. If you forget all the bullshit that I've just said, just remember this 'light doesn't always equate to good, just as dark doesn't always equate to evil.' I've been brought up to believe in Blood-Purity, that pure-bloods are better than Mudbloods by a hundredfold, that they are only fit for slaves. If you don't or won't share this view, hey, that's fine. I won't kill you, but you would have to get used to me."

"I think I can, it makes sense; both parts. That there's only Grey magic, and that pure-bloods are better. If you have more magic in your blood that would make you more powerful... ?" Harry drifted off, hoping that he wasn't making him mad; Malfoy seemed to be a dangerous enemy.

"It should, but there _are_ Mudblood that are more powerful, that are smarter than pure-bloods. But, I won't try to force this particular opinion down your throat. It's the most controversial opinion in the wizard world. We are in the middle of a war; on one side you have the Dark Lord's Death Eaters who believe what I just said, then on the other, there's Dumbledore, who believes that Mudblood and Muggles are fine, good even. You won't have to decide this today or tomorrow, but one day you will, and it will change wizardkind. You can either be on the Dark Lord's side, remember that he killed you 'rents, or side with Dumbledore and be their Golden Boy. Don't answer now, but one day I'd like to know." He spoke without emotion, but tried to convey the seriousness of his speech.

Harry relaxed and leaned back, wondering. Draco was obviously on Voldemort's side. However, he was saying that Harry could go against him and it wouldn't matter to him. He was the first one to speak outright to Harry about the underground War.

"Listen... Draco, I appreciate you telling me this, and actually speaking as a friend. But you've already chose your side, haven't you?"

"Well, yes and no. Yes, for now I'm behind the Dark Lord. No, I might change my mind."

"But you don't think you will?" Harry pressed.

"I might, there might be this reality check when I'm older, and an actual Death Eater that could change my mind. The closest thing to an answer that you'll get is maybe. I might, I've been told glory is involved but, like I said; there may be a reality check in my future. Speaking of a reality check, I have some friends that I'd like you to meet."

"What kind of friends?" Harry asked cautiously, not liking the change of subject.

"They are to-be Slytherins and most of them are Royals, they believe what I just said. I also had an idea where I could, not change your opinion or views per se, but show you the other side." Draco hoped he wasn't pissing Potter off; he seemed like a dangerous enemy. "You'll have a lot of Dumbledore's followers giving that side, and views and we thought that it would be good that you know both sides before you chose. And learn each side by those that believe in it, not by the prejudice of the other side."

"O-okay."

"First though, you should probably change into your school robes. You need to do so before you arrive and, well, I don't think that you'd like to in front of us." Malfoy stood up, "Oh, and we're in compartment Z-9, that's at the back of this train." Draco threw over his shoulder as he shut the door.

"Alrighty then," Harry said to himself as he took down the pain of a trunk. This time he ducked before it hit him, but he guessed that he couldn't get it back up without those twins. "Oh well." He took out his robes and changed, briefly worrying about his 'friend's' friends.

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	3. Us or Them?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter _JKR does.

**.com/watch?v=R1O5UT1xyFk**

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**CHAPTER THREE: US OR THEM?**

_So say goodbye to the last parade.  
And walk away from the choice you made.  
And say goodnight to the heart you break.  
So say goodbye to the vows you take.  
And say goodbye to the life you make.  
And say goodbye to the heart you break.  
- My Chemical Romance  
_"To the End"

Opening the door he got the shock of his life, running into a brown bush. Oh, wait no. That was the book-girl with extremely curly hair. Now that Harry could see her properly, he saw that she had rather large front teeth. "Hello, I was wondering, have you seen a toad, a boy named Neville's lost one." _The Neville chasing the toad from the station? He ought to keep a better hold on his pets._ "Oh my." She exclaimed softly as her eyes rested on Harry's forehead. She launched into a speech about what she had heard about the "Famous Harry Potter" and about the books he was in. Harry barely listened, he was amazed at the books that he was in, but literature was never his strong suit.

"Listen, this will sound arrogant, but it's true; I'm used to it." Harry said when she was finished. He was strongly reminded of Doris Crockford who kept coming back to shake his hand in the Leaky Cauldron. "And, no, I didn't see a toad; or any animal since London." Harry felt a pang of worry, was Hedwig safe?

"Alright, Harry. I'm Hermione Granger." She held out her hand. Harry took it wordlessly; he felt no need to say his name since she told him things about himself that he didn't know. "If you don't mind my asking, where are you going?"

"A friend invited me down to his compartment to meet his friends."

"Mind if I come with you?" Hermione looked out the window instead of at Harry, who was trying to figure out how Draco would respond to another guest.

"I-I, um. Sure? But it may be best if you are calmer."

Hermione nodded, "Well, I'm just smart, and I'm used to telling people what I know. I will though."

They walked in silence for a while, Hermione running out of information to say, but she did have a question, "What is your friend's compartment number?"  
"It's Z-9." Hermione stopped walking for a second, but recovered and thankfully, Harry missed it. A fair few people were talking about it as the 'Baby Death Eater's' Carriage. _How can _Harry Potter _have friends like that?_ Hermione wondered.

They came to the door and looking inside she saw seven people in there, two girls, five boys. Two of the boys took positions by the door, looking remarkably like bodyguards; they certainly had the bulk. Another boy had a pale pointed face and white blonde hair that was slicked back, he was lounging as if he owned the place _That's a Malfoy_ her brain informed her. The boy sitting on the right of the young Malfoy had dark skin and Italian features; he kept looking at the girl across from him with a slight smirk plastered on his face. The girl across from the Italian had blonde hair as well, but it was a much darker, _normal_ blonde. The girl across from the Malfoy looked at him quite admiringly; she had a face like a pug, and dark brown hair that hung straight to her shoulders. The boy sitting on the pug faced girl's right looked almost like a rabbit, Hermione didn't know how to put it, but he did.

Hermione knew that these kids were more than likely to be arrogant and bigoted, and it was not at all likely that they would accept her parentage. "Harry, here," the Malfoy said indicating the seat on his left, taking a look at her, his brow drawing together, "I don't believe I know you," he stood up and went to her, holding out his hand, "My name's Malfoy, _Draco_ Malfoy."

She took his hand nervously, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Granger... Granger..." Malfoy kept muttering as he let go of her hand, "Is your grandfather, perhaps great-grandfather Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, buying time.

"Is Hector Dagworth-Granger somewhere in your family tree?" Malfoy enunciated slowly, making her feel stupid.

"I doubt it," Hermione took a deep breath, saying words that would save her or condemn her, "You see, my parents are Muggles." The Italian's eyebrows shot up and he shot Harry a dirty look before looking at her like she was something that he found on the bottom of his shoe. The girls didn't appear to be listening, which was a good thing. Harry looked at her curiously, they had probably told him things about Muggleborns – but his gaze flicked to Malfoy whose back was turned.

The bodyguards each took one of her arms and one of them asked, "Sir, what should I do with this Mudblood?"

The little 'sir' finally turned around and said, no _ordered_, "Take this filth away!"

Harry jumped from his seat and said, "No."

"Potter-"

"Malfoy, I said 'no.'"

"If you say 'no' may I ask 'why'?"

"If you ask 'why' may _I_ ask 'why _not'_?"

"Yes, you may. Crabbe, Goyle!" the bodyguards snapped to attention, "Take her outside while we talk." The two of them took Hermione outside as Harry looked at her with eyes that begged for understanding. "Why not? Because she doesn't deserve it. The end."

"No! Not the end, her parents aren't her fault. Why should she be thrown out because of her parentage?"

"Look around you."

Harry turned around and Malfoy grabbed his shoulder, his other hand pointing in front Harry's eyes. "Blaise _Zabini_, Daphne _Greengrass_, Pansy _Parkinson_, Theodore _Nott_, Harry _Potter_ and Draco _Malfoy_." He turned Harry around again and looked him in the eye, "We all have old wizarding names, we are all powerful lineage, and you may not know you do, but you do. We have generations of great wizards and witches in our family trees; alchemists, potioneers, professors, those working for the greater good." Draco's voice turned cruelly mocking, "Who is in her tree? Hmm? Milkmen, mail carriers, police officers, firefighters? We're better than they are, Potter, you can either learn that or you can leave with that trash. I told you that you don't have to choose sides yet, but bringing Mudblood in _our_ compartment demands an answer.  
"Us or them? Do you want to be the wizarding world's Golden Boy? The Champion of Mudbloods and Blood Traitors Everywhere? Or do you want to change the _world_ bring us wizards out of hiding, overthrow the Stature of Secrecy so that we no longer have to pretend? So who will it be; us or them?" Malfoy hissed the last few words in Harry's ear, almost desperate to have him understand.

Harry started to like their way; no longer have to pretend to be a Muggle in their world, the Dursleys giving him _respect_, able to do magic anywhere and everywhere...

Harry knew that one word would change his life and he chose to speak the _right_ one, the_ right_ side.

"You..."

* * *

**Sorry it's short, but I'll update on the 24th, okay? It just seemed like a good place to stop. This is the part where you hit the button right below this. PLEASE!**


	4. Compromise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter: JKR does. Sad to say, I'm not her.

**.com/watch?v=l_ib6eKPshI**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: COMPROMISE**

_I could be mean  
I could be angry  
You know I could be just like you  
- Three Days Grace _"Just Like You"

"_Us or them? Do you want to be the wizarding world's Golden Boy? The Champion of Mudblood and Blood Traitors Everywhere? Or do you want to change the world bring us wizards out of hiding, overthrow the Stature of Secrecy so that we no longer have to pretend? So who will it be; us or them?" Malfoy hissed the last few words in Harry's ear, almost desperate to have him understand._

_Harry started to like their way; no longer have to pretend to be a Muggle, the Dursleys giving him respect, able to do magic anywhere and everywhere..._

_Harry knew that one word would change his life and he chose to speak the _right_ one, the _right_ side._

"_You..."_

Harry saw Malfoy's face break into a smirk and his friends behind him were smiling too. "Just, give me a few minutes."

With that Harry took off. He didn't know where Hermione was, but he wanted to apologize to her, at the least. Looking down the long hallway, he saw her bushy hair, "Hermione!" he called, she turned around and glared at him so fiercely that Harry skidded, and backed up a bit.

"What?" she snapped, "Someone told me what Mudblood meant! So if you're here to-"

"I'm not, I'm here to apologise. You know, say sorry. I didn't think that Draco would be so angry, so-so-" Harry struggled for words.

"Rude? Arrogant? Bigoted?" Hermione supplied coldly.

"All of the above. I knew he was bigoted, but I didn't know to what level. You know this is your fault!" Harry accused, using the classic.

"My fault?"

"Yeah, if you told me, I wouldn't have let you in. I wouldn't have let you be humiliated and treated like filth. I would have told you to bugger off, that this wasn't the place for you-"

"But it is for you?" Hermione shot back.

"Maybe. I don't know, but I belong there more than you. They _hate _you for a pathetic reason-"

"And you're willing to go on with that?" Hermione whispered, close to tears with what Harry Potter was considering.

"Yes! Draco's a good friend, I'll put up with him, but I won't join in!"

"Okay, I accept your apology."

"Thanks, Hermione."

Harry watched her walk away and he went back to Draco's compartment.

"Hey, Harry! What'd you do?"

Harry sat beside Draco, and thought it best not to lie, "I apologised to Hermione."

Malfoy's smirk became rather fixed, "Well, Potter, this is lesson number one: you treat those the way that they deserve to be treated."

"I'm not going to follow that lesson, let me explain," Harry begged, as Draco took out his wand. Malfoy kept it trained on Harry, but waved him on.

"You are judging Hermione based on her parentage; you don't even know the girl! How can you hate her because of her parents? Malfoy, I knew you were arrogant from the first day I met you. I know that there are only five things that people are often arrogant about: money, respect, power, possessions and good looks-" Harry ticked them off on his fingers.

"Then I have all five," Draco proclaimed cockily.

"Four, you don't need to be arrogant because of how _you_ look. But moving on, I don't want to discuss how hot you think you are," Harry added for Malfoy showed all signs of interrupting, "Continuing, Hermione might have none. I just can't see how you can judge someone by their parents."

"Easy; their parents are filth, therefore they are filth. Bad blood."

"Malfoy there is no 'bad blood' everyone has the same blood running through their veins-"

"You see, that's not true; we have pure magic running through our veins, she has pure _non_-magic in her veins."

Harry held up his hands in surrender and started to laugh at himself.

"I'm regretting staying here, not kicking you out when I had the chance." Harry stood up, "I could say it was a pleasure meeting you but I'd be lying."

Harry slammed the door behind him so hard the glass cracked, he heard a sigh from inside and _"Reparo!"_ he was trying to find Hermione to apologize or... or... or something. "Potter!" God, how Harry hated that drawl. "You don't want me to be your enemy," Malfoy whispered dangerously.

"I figured that out by myself, funnily enough."

"You might not like the reasons, you may not like the means, but can you understand the ends?" it was a loaded question and one that Draco knew would catch Potter's attention.

"Your reasons are bullshit, your means I don't know and would hate to imagine, the ends..." Draco's eyes widened marginally; he was reeling him in. If you are focused enough on the ends, what you want to come out of something, you'll do anything to get there. And Draco knew that. "The ends, are... um... more than understandable," Potter whispered so low that Draco could hear it, but he wanted to hear it again.

"I didn't catch that?"

"The ends are more than understandable; coming out of hiding, getting respect from the Muggles who hate me. That would be a great ending. But..."

"But you don't like my reasons. I said it wasn't going to be an opinion that I was going to shove down your throat, and I meant that. Something that I believe and all Slytherins believe is if you want the ends, the means don't matter."

"Have you ever heard the saying 'The means justify the ends?'"

"No, actually."

"Shocking," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"Are you gonna keep walking away? If so, we can forget our time together and I'll see you on the other side."

"Other side of _what?_" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, the other side of this war," Draco said as if were the most obvious thing in the world, "Wizards like the Dark Lord don't die; they wait for the time to return."

"When he comes back, I'll be ready for him," Harry declared confidently, "Do one thing for me, and I'll never ask for another again."

"If it's respecting all the Mudbloods and garbage in the school, you've got another thing coming."

"No!" Harry started to sound concerned "No, I'm asking for you to give each individual Mudblood a chance. To get to know them, if they deserve you talking about them like that, I won't object. If they are good friends, treat them like you would anyone else, and try to _stop judging others based on their families_!"

"Let me get this straight," to Harry's shock, Draco broke into a smile and was on the verge of laughter, "You want _me _to _not_ give Mudbloods what's coming? To-"

"To give them a _chance_! To get to know them."

"But then, I'd have to be around them, and I'd have to treat them like proper wizards and witches. How about a compromise?"

"Compromise?" Harry repeated, puzzled.

"Yeah, for – let's say two weeks, you try things my way. Then for two weeks I'll try things your way, and give the filth a shot."

"What is 'your way'?" Harry asked warily.

"You have to look at where they come from, and judge them and treat them accordingly."

"You try things my way, and I'll try things yours?"

"Yeah, exactly. Shake on it?"

Draco held out his hand, looking at it Harry could just feel that this was something big. And he didn't want to go through something big alone...

"Alright," Harry said, and he shook Draco's hand.

"See ya in Slytherin!" Draco called as he walked away.

"Yeah... Slytherin," Harry mumbled, feeling as if he had gotten the worst end of the stick.

He went back to his compartment, alone. And Draco went to _his_ compartment, filled with future Slytherins. He explained what Harry had done, had said – almost to the letter. While Harry was leaning back, trying to sleep again, but he barely shut his eyes when the train jerked to a halt.

Harry let out a groan, and heard a voice announce that the luggage would be taken separately. He walked out and ran into a taller boy that he nearly mistook of one of the red-haired twins.

"Sorry, I'm Ron Weasely."

"Harry Potter," Harry said as he took the Weasley's hand. Ron gaped at his scar for a few seconds before they set out for the boats together.

When Harry turned around, for one last look at the train, he swore that Draco was scowling at him. Harry took a second look at Ron; the hand me down robes must not be sitting very well with Draco.

"What house are you going into? Harry? Harry?"

"Sorry, thought I saw something..." Harry trailed off. "Which house? Slytherin." He looked at Ron who was making a face at the house, "_What_? What house are you going into?"

"I dunno but all my family's been Gryffindor. I just thought that you'd be too. _Daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart_ I just thought..."

"It's okay, maybe you'll be in Slytherin too," Harry said hopefully, missing the horrified look on Ron's face.

* * *


	5. The Sorting

**Notice: **Apparently, last night, I screwed up all the chapters -- they were all in the wrong place, so, hopefully with this one, they'll be right again. Sorry, I accidently duplicated one of the chapters I was going to put up and didn't put the other one on.  
Sorry! This is the missing chapter. And thank you to Teufel1987 who told me that it was messed up, I wouldn't have known otherwise.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter: JKR does. Sad to say, I'm not her.

**.com/watch?v=x5but1V152I**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE SORTING**

_Push me under  
__Pull me further  
__Take me all the way  
__Take me all the way  
__- Three Days Grace "Take Me Under"_

"How'd your talk with Potter go?" Blaise asked as they stepped out of their boat, Theo right behind them, hanging onto their every word.

"Harry," Draco corrected. "I think he's with us."

Draco saw no reason to trouble his friend with the negotiation that he'd made – he knew Blaise would go mad.

"Great," Nott interjected from behind.

"Oi, you there! Is this yer toad?" Hagrid called from up front.

"TREVOR!" one boy stepped forward and picked up the toad as Draco and his gang snickered.

The oaf lead them up the stairs and into the castle, many of those around Draco were staring around in wonder. He smirked, thinking of all those that had never seen a place like this. It was natural that Harry would look around like an idiot; Muggles weren't too big on castles. Upon seeing Harry, he noticed a certain red head beside him. Draco hoped that the Weasely was just walking beside Harry out of coincidence.

"There you are, Harry," Draco said, thinking fast. "I was wondering where you wondered off to."

Draco shot a look at the Weasely that Harry misinterpreted. "Draco this is—"

"I know he's a _Weasely_," Draco said with contemptment.

"Okay," Harry's face went blank as Draco raised an eyebrow, before comprehension dawned on him, remembering the deal. "Sorry, I ran out on you, bit surprised, that's all."

"That's fine, Harry. You wanna...?" he left the question hanging.

"Alright. Bye, _Weasely_," Harry said in the same condescending tone Draco used.

Draco looked behind them, as he ushered Harry away from the blood traitor, the young Weasel was looking at Harry in disbelief. Others that saw them pass, that heard of the Malfoy name and the signature white-blonde hair were shocked – to say the least – to see Harry Potter associating with the enemy.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said a Professor that Draco was sure, from what his father had described, was Professor McGonagall. Draco didn't bother listening to her speech, it was all stuff that he knew, and stuff he had told Harry on the train. Harry started to look around the bare room, looking for something of interest, no doubt. "Please wait here," she finished, and left.

"Draco?" Harry asked hesitantly. He nodded to show he was listening, "How does the Hat Sort us?"

"Well," Draco's father hadn't really explained that, so Draco didn't know himself. But he was too proud to admit he didn't know something. "It pokes around in your mind and looks at which house's traits best match yours."

"What're the traits again?"

Looking at his friend, Draco saw that Harry was quite nervous. "It'll take your choice into account. If it comes down to two houses, you can choose. You can choose anyhow, but if you have no preferences than the Hat Sorts you based solely on your traits."

"So if I'm not cunning enough I can still be in Slytherin?"

"'Course, anyway, I bet you _are_ cunning enough. Manipulative, perhaps not, but I wouldn't doubt you're cunning."

"We're ready for you now," the Professor had re-entered.

The first years followed Professor McGonagall into the Entrance Hall. Then she placed the Hat on a stool, sitting at the front of the Hall, and it began to sing.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can top them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart.  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil.  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a steady mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind.  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The Hall burst into applause and the confused first years followed suit. Professor McGonagall started calling out names in alphabetical order, slowly the people dwindled around Draco and Harry, until there was a dozen left.

"Malfoy, Draco!" barked McGonagall.

He smiled at Harry, then went up and sat on the stool. The Hat touched his hair, and before it screamed out Slytherin, it hissed something in his ear, _"Don't let Harry Potter go!"_

Draco didn't know what it meant, and he hated to take advise; but he wasn't going to let him go anyway. Another minute went by and "Potter, Harry," was called up. Harry was sitting on the stool for nearly a whole minute before the Hat yelled Slytherin, too.

The Hall was clapping politely, the way that it would when a Mudblood was put on the stool – when no one knew them. But Draco lead his table in a loud cheer, he swore he heard someone taunt the Gryffindors that Slytherin had Potter. Draco waved him over, and asked "What'd the Hat say to you?"

Harry went really quiet, and Draco didn't want to press the question.

* * *

"Potter, Harry!" called Professor McGonagall.

Harry wasn't terrified, but he was pretty damn scared. He walked with his head held high as whispers followed him, and people craned their necks to get a glimpse of him.

"_Hmm, difficult. Very difficult,"_ said a small voice in Harry's ear. _"Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you? Any preferences, hmm?"_

"Slytherin, preferably. But if I didn't have a preference, where would I go?" Harry thought anxiously.

"_Probably Slytherin, I think. You remind me of a certain student; Tom Riddle. Nice _boy_, ambitious, cunning, intellectual, resourceful and showed quite a bit of self-preservation. Quite like yourself, Harry Potter. He too, was a half-blood, grown up with Muggles, and like you, Slytherin could lead you on the way to greatness – no doubt about that."_

Harry listened to the Hat in awe, having a certain feeling that he shouldn't repeat this – the Hat spoke this as if it were a great secret, yet something to be proud of.

"Slytherin, then," Harry thought.

"_Yes, yes, yes. SLYTHERIN!"_

Harry heard the last word shouted to the Hall, which clapped politely, the Slytherin table cheering enthusiastically. As the Hat was lifted from his eyes, Harry saw Ron look at him with disbelieving eyes – what was wrong with him? Did he think that Harry was joking about Slytherin? He saw Draco split into a real smile, as he waved Harry over. He sat down next to him, and the first words out of Draco's mouth Harry hated.

"What'd the Hat say to you?"

Harry didn't want to answer, so was quiet for the remainder of the ceremony, and was thankful when Draco didn't demand an answer. When "Weasely, Ron" was called, he was quite pale. Crossing his fingers under the table, Harry started to wish for Slytherin – then maybe Draco would say that he could treat a fellow Slytherin with dignity.

"SLYTHERIN!" yelled the Hat.

Looking around, half terrified Ron made his way to the table, at the far end. Harry sneaked a glance at Draco who was furiously disgusted. True to Draco's word, every person that was in that compartment was in Slytherin, and had sat around the two of them.

When the stern woman took the Hat and stool away, Dumbledore stood up and said: "I would like to say a few words, and they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you," and he sat down. Harry was a bit confused about Dumbledore's words, but he saw his housemates snickering at the Headmaster's word choice. Harry's attention was taken away from the Headmaster when food was served, simply appearing from thin air.

The food was the best Harry ever had, but he noticed few looked at it the food the way he did; so he organised his wondrous expression into a conversational smile.

About half way through dinner, Harry had a feeling that someone was staring at him. Looking around the Hall, he didn't see anyone staring at him that hadn't before, when he turned to the Staff Table Harry felt a sharp jab of pain in his scar. He noticed the teacher from the evil look he was giving Harry.

"Draco?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the High Table. "You know who the different teachers are?"

"Yeah sure," he put down his fork and knife, and started pointing at all of them, starting with the one near their table. "Professor Sinistra; Astronomy. Madam Hooch; Flying Instructor. Professor I Don't Know. Professor Flitwick; Charms. McGonagall, that bat that brought us in here--" Harry snorted, he thought it was a bit rich to call her a bat, when there was that teacher on the other side of Dumbledore, who was _still_ glowering at him "—she teaches Transfiguration. Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster, bit barmy if you ask me, though you could tell that by his speech. That's Professor Snape – wonder why he's glaring at you, anyway he's Potions Master. That guy talking to Snape's Quirrell, stuttering idiot, he's Defence Against the Dark Arts," Draco made a face when he said that subject. "Professor Trelawney; Divination, I think. Hagrid, he's no teacher – not even a real wizard. Madam Pomfry, school matron. And Professor Sprout; Herbology," Draco grinned, proud to have remembered most of them. "There are four Heads of House; Gryffindor's is McGonagall, Ravenclaw's is Flitwick, Hufflepuff has Sprout and we have Snape – the only teacher that actually has a backbone."

Harry nodded, trying to commit the names to memory or at least most of them. It was a bit unwelcome that his house's head didn't like him very much, and the way that Draco spoke about Snape as if he was the greatest teacher there was. Harry guessed that he was just going to have to wait until tomorrow. He hoped that his friend's habit of dumping a load of information on him was going to go away soon. Or at least, when Harry learned most about the Wizarding World.

When dinner was finished and the puddings disappeared, Dumbledore stood up and gave a few warnings. As he said the one about the Forbidden Forest, Harry saw his eyes dart towards the Gryffindor's table – maybe Draco was right, and they were over-brave idiots. Dumbledore sat down and most of the Hall stood up, Draco tugged on his arm and motioned to one of the older students who was saying "First years! Over here!"

Harry followed the older student, sticking with Draco, into the dungeons. They came to stop at one wall that looked quite solid to Harry, but the older student was saying that it was the entrance to the common room. The current password was apparently "Serpent-Tongue".

The common room was elaborately decorated in green and silver hangings, with black leather chairs and couches dotted around a cool room lit with green light coming from a smoky green ceiling. The fireplace also cast green light, the flames licking the stone hearth were also green, and the sparks that the fire spat out were a glinting silver.

"Girls, your dorms are to the left, boys, on your right. As you can see, we take great pride in our difference from other houses," the Prefect said while the first years looked around. "Many will see us as arrogant or even spiteful, but it is simply pride in our uniqueness and strength. Many will also attempt to trick you, you should also never accept anything, never trust anyone except your fellow Slytherins. Now, Professor Snape has a few other words he'd like to add." The Prefect stood aside as Snape strode in, his black robes billowing behind him – making him look quite bat-like, thought Harry. Despite the looks that he kept getting from Snape, Harry couldn't help feeling a respect for him – being able to shut up anyone by mere presence was quite impressive.

Snape shot another dirty look at Harry before speaking, "Thank you, Mr Flint. I urge you all to take his advice," Snape didn't speak above a whisper, but everyone heard every word he said. "Don't trust anyone besides another Slytherin. Many would say that I favour you all above students from other houses, this isn't true yet it is. I was a Slytherin myself, and still have a fondness for my old house, being Head of Slytherin increased that – I shall never take a point from my own house, but I will give out detentions to my own students. If any of you—" here his eyes rested on Harry again "—embarrass the Slytherin name I shall make sure it is the last thing you will do in the school. We have won the House Cup for the past seven years, I don't expect to break that tradition, and neither should you. Ravenclaws would acquire points from class and their strong intellect. Hufflepuffs never minded being last, and are content to stay that way. Gryffindors would attempt to obtain house points by doing good deeds. Slytherins do so by making sure that we are not caught. We are often picked on, but when we fight back, we are never caught – if there are witnesses, make sure no one will believe them. I leave you with those words."

Again he swept out of the room with a move worthy of a horror movie.

* * *


	6. First Night in the Snake Pit

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

**I will admit that I play enough video games to actually look up the gaming music, and I'm not putting the link on here cause the song sucks, but the lyric fits.  
And in this chapter you see more of Harry's beliefs, grey beliefs. **

**Oh, and please don't kill me for Slytherin Ron, I think I made his reaction quite good. idk about the other Weaselys'...**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: FIRST NIGHT IN THE SNAKE PIT**

_Black hearted evil,  
Brave hearted hero,  
I am all, I am all I am  
- Crush 40 _"I Am... All I Am"

Again, Snape swept out of the room with a move worthy of a horror movie.

"Does Snape have thing for the dramatics?" Harry joked.

"Oh, yeah. He always did, I don't think he'd ever get rid of that," Draco replied.

"Listen up, you lot," the Prefect said. "Me, the other Prefect and Head Boy and Girl will stay here for about another hour. Write your name and the name of who you're going to share a room with for the year – only two. Rather, there's only two beds, if you want it can be boy-girl," the Prefect smirked. He then went to join few older kids.

Knowing that they could move around, that the talking was over, everyone sort of separated into their cliques. Draco steered Harry with him, and they took a pair of chairs in front of the fire.

"What'd you think of Snape?" Draco asked sinking into one of the chairs, crossing his legs.

Harry took the one opposite him and followed suit, staring at the green and silver fire. "He didn't seem to like me very much. Wonder why, but other than that – he seems like he's the teacher that's pure evil," Harry smirked.

"Yeah, he's a bit intimidating – brilliant but bit scary," Draco laughed, then looked at the fire. "There were three of us earlier – me, Blaise, Theo. Now there's you, wanna share a room with me?" he asked confidently.

"Sure, Blaise and Theo are sharing, then?" Harry asked glad to have a friend.

"Yeah, and then Crabbe and Goyle," Draco replied. "Father said that we might need some... ahh, protection. There's a lot of Mudblood-lovers here, that wouldn't like it if we gave them what's coming."

The boys stood up and went to sign their names; they saw others do the same. Only thosethat were in their compartment were already positiveof whom they'd room with. There was Blaise and Theo, then Crabbe and Goyle – like Draco said – then there was Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson.

A fair few others were doing rock-paper-scissors and other things to figure out who would go with whom, then there were people dotted everywhere, who didn't seem to know anyone, once again Harry was thankful that Draco went in his compartment. Harry thought for a moment what it would be like if Draco hadn't walked in, and shuddered.

Draco and Harry went back to their spot – which remained empty, as arguments broke out.

"You didn't forget the deal, did you?" Draco asked quietly after a few minutes.

"No, why do you think I called him 'Weasely'? By the way, I don't know—"

"Yeah, you don't know_._You'll have to depend on what I know of the wizarding names andhow they stand in society. The blood traitors aren't even worth a minute of your time, unless it's to put them in their place."

"Yeah, not worth my time," Harry repeated, looking into the fire. For the first time, Harry noticed that the lazy drawl that Draco had made him sound quite annoying at times – but Harry was able to overlook that.

"Now that the youngest Weasel is a Slytherin himself," Draco glanced at the corner of the common room, where Ron was sitting, still white as a sheet, "he might be better than his family. You can give _him_ a chance – but not the other Weasels."

Harry nodded, pleased that he didn't have to be so rude to Ron again.

Satisfied that Harry understood, Draco called over Blaise and Theo. After ten minutes, few of the girls (which included Pansy and Daphne) in the corner started to stare at the four boys in a very gigglish way. Absently Harry reached a hand up andran it through his dark hair, looking around the room almost coping Draco's lazy gaze. Noticing one of the girls (Daphne, Harry thought) looking speechless Harry smiled at her.

He started to think about Hermione, knowing how he'd have to treat her for the next thirteen days, as Draco, Blaise and Theo talked about lessons, Quidditch and rights. When the talk went to Muggle and Mudblood rights, Harry's ears perked up – he still didn't get what was bad about them, he heard of good Muggles, just never met them, and Hermione seemed fine.

"If _I _were in charge," Blaise was saying, "I wouldn't bother inviting any of these Mudbloods; magic education belongs with old wizarding families."

"Agreed," Draco and Theo said.

"If you don't mind my asking," Harry started, "what's so bad about Mudbloods?"

Blaise looked at Harry curiously, before replying, "They're Muggles have got their hold on some magic and can do bits and pieces of magic – but not really, then nuts like Dumbledore ask them to Hogwarts. No offence to your mother."

"My mother was a Mudblood?" Harry asked embarrassed and surprised, then felt ashamed at his embarrassment. Was he humiliated of his own _blood?_

"Yeah," Draco said. "That makes you a half-blood. It's okay, it could be worse, you could be Mudblood. But the Potter name was a very old pureblood name before your father married the Mudblood, if you want to you can return it to its former glory."

Harry didn't say anything for a while, trying _very _hard not to laugh at the seriousness in Draco's voice. Then he realized that he was embarrassed because all but him was pureblood and he felt like he was painted neon orange. Harry didn't really think that bloodlines meant much difference, but pureblood seemed to be something to be proud of... but the fact that he wasn't one didn't make him worthless, but on the other hand...

Harry thought about it for a while, before speaking his thought, "It's not our fault."

"What's that now?" Draco drawled.

"Half-bloods, like me, and Mudbloods, like Hermione. It's not our fault; our parents aren't our fault. It'd be luck that you're a pureblood."

Blaise and Theo were a bit shocked, speechless, rather. But Draco was nodding slowly, "I... can sort of see your... point. But it doesn't stop that they are," he added quickly, Harry had an idea that he only added that for Blaise and Theo's benefit. "Half-bloods can restore the pureblood name with the correct marriages for a few generations. But Mudbloods are beyond help."

"Well said," Theo added, before starting on a Mudblood Registration Act that he would set up.

Harry needed a bit of a change; the conversation topic wasn't setting well with Harry. He uncrossed his legs, stood up and walked over to Ron, whose face was as green as the curtains behind him.

"How you holding up, Ron?" Harry gently asked, sitting across from him – taking the same position as he had with Draco and his crew.

Ron looked up at Harry nervously, now that Harry could really see him; his face was a _very_ bad shade of green.

"I'll take that as a 'not good'," Harry grinned weakly.

"Seriously, you look like you've had a Disillusion Charm put on you," Draco laughed from behind Harry, who rolled his eyes.

Ron laughed nervously. "Mum's gonna kill me. Whole family's been Gryffindor," he mumbled incoherently.

"Listen, what're you gonna get?" Draco asked, sitting beside Harry. "A Howler? A few? They'll get used to a Slytherin kid."

"When Mum's angry, Mum's angry," Ron said to the floor. "Bad temper, she got."

"Then what's the worst that she'd do?" Harry asked.

"Many, many Howlers. Then at Christmas, or when I see her, yelling. Lots o' yelling," Ron shuddered, but when he looked up, he was smiling.

"What'd the Hat say to you, why're you here?" Draco asked bluntly.

"I have no idea, I felt it sort of... sifting through my head – if that makes sense," Ron said. "Then I heard it yell Slytherin, that's it."

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Is that so?" Draco said, smirking.

Ron's ears went as red as his hair, before saying something that might have been a yes. Then a bit louder, "I wanted to be different from my family – my brothers. Bill was Head Boy and Prefect, Charlie was best Seeker Gryffindor ever had, Fred and George are the school pranksters are really funny and brilliant, Percy is really, really smart and ambitious – wants to be Minister of Magic, no one who met him doubts that. Then there's me. I wanted to stand out from my brothers; I guess the Hat took it as I wanted to make my family angry."

"That's a good way to stand out," Draco snorted. "What? It _is!_" he added as Harry glared at him.

Ron got up and walked away. "I suppose I gotta find a roommate," he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Well he's a bit different, he stands out. I'm gonna talk to the girls." He stood up too, "You can come too, Harry."

Harry went and sat with Draco, Blaise and a few girls. Almost instantly, it seemed that the girls were choosing their guys – Pansy latched herself onto Draco, who looked quite pleased for the attention, even though it looked like he wouldn't get his right arm back. Daphne sat beside Harry, but, thankfully, wasn't as clingy – although, Harry still feared for his arm. Another girl was with Blaise, while the others were looking on enviously.

After ten minutes of staying with Draco, Blaise and the girls, Harry couldn't stand it. He got his arm back, checked to make sure it was still working, and looked for Ron. He didn't have to go far; Ron was just outside the stone wall.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Oh, hello," Ron looked at him, and Harry could see that he'd been crying.

"Didn't want to be _this_ different?" Harry teased.

Shaking his head, Ron was looking around, determined to not meet Harry's eyes again.

"You wanna go find your brothers? That's why you're so freaked, right?" Harry sighed.

Ron snorted shakily, "Fred and Geoge'll be _really_ supportive. Percy; I don't particularly want to think about."

"Look," Harry said, leaning against the wall, "you can either go and find them, apologize or whatever the hell you wanna do, or you can come inside and explain tomorrow," thinking about Ron's position, he added hesitantly, "Option number three: you can forget your brothers, and they can accept you or not, while you can accept Slytherin – what?" Harry asked, just as Draco did earlier.

Ron was glaring at him angrily, "What do you know about Slytherin?"

Smiling, Harry said, "The traits, or whatever, are cunning, ambitious, crafty, resourceful, determined. The common room is really cool, the Head of House doesn't like me, Salazar Slytherin started it, founded it—"

"Know any _past _Slytherins?"

"No – oh, yeah one," Harry said remembering the Sorting Hat. "Tom Riddle. The Sorting Hat compared me to him, but that's about it. I don't know why the past matters," having a brain-wave he continued, "This is the same like with Draco and Blaise and their Mudblood crap. They focus on where people came from, and let that affect what they think about the actual person. I don't give a damn who was in Slytherin before. All I care about is that Draco, Blaise, Theo, Daphne and Pansy are in Slytherin– that's it? So who am I suppose to know?"

"You Know Who."

"No, that's just it, who are you talking – oh," Harry stopped short. "Voldemort?"

Ron cringed at the name, but nodded as he wiped his eyes.

"That _still _doesn't matter. Of all people, I should be mad. But you're the one crying," Harry exclaimed, trying to change the subject he sneered, "You gonna come in, or are going Weasel Hunting?" Harry hoped to get a _real_ reaction out of him, not just the deadpanned voice.

"It won't kill you to be sarcastic," Ron mumbled. To Harry's eyes, Ron looked a bit pathetic; there were still tear tracks on his face, he didn't seem to have the energy to snap at Harry for the jibe at his family, he was just so sad –being a Slytherin was the worst thing that happened to him.

"Really though," Harry asked, "seriously, are you going to look for your brothers, or wait until morning, or not bother talking to them?"

"I think that I should find them, now."

"Great, I'll come too," Harry said brightly. "Then clean up, you look like hell."

"Gee thanks."

Ron wiped his eyes a few more times, before walking out of the dungeons with Harry on his heels.

"You know where they'll be?"

"I kinda know where Gryffindor Tower is, but small chance that I'll be let in," Ron said shaking his head.

Ron lead them up the steps, and they stopped at the seventh floor landing, and a large portrait of a fat lady in a long pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Think we found it," Ron said to himself, then louder, "Can you go into the Gryffindor Common Room and ask for any Weasely that's in there to come out, say Ron Weasely wants to say something."

The Fat Lady blinked, but she walked out of her frame, and left her portrait blank.

* * *

"Are there any Weasleys in here?" one of the portraits asked in a loud voice.

The common room looked around, and found the Fat Lady.

"Um... we are," one of the twins said from the corner, raising their hands.

"And me, Percy Weasely."

"Go outside, there's some relative of yours that wants to say something."

The twins left Lee Jordon to planning a new prank, and Percy dropped his book andfollowed his brothers out of the portrait hole to find an anxious Ron, and a mischievous Harry Potter.

* * *

"What would you like, little snaky?" Fred asked.

"Ijustwanttosaythati'msorryandthatihopethatyoudon'thatemeforbeingSlytherin," Ron said at high speed.

"_What?_" Percy asked dumbfounded.

"I'll translate," Harry said, stepping forward, having prepared on the walk what to say if Ron got tongue-tied. "He wants to say that he's sorry that he's not in Gryffindor with the rest of you, and that he hopes that you won't hold any ill feeling for his difference in house. He also wants to say—" Ron looked at him oddly, he hadn't _said _anything else"—that he wanted to be different, standout from the rest of you lot. He didn't chose Slytherin consciously, but he wanted to stand out.  
"From Bill being Head Boy and Prefect, Charlie being an awesome Seeker, Fred and George being the school pranksters being funny and brilliant at the same time, and Percy wanting to be Minister and not a person doubting it, who would notice him? He wanted to stand out from you lot. Ron needed something big to get noticed, right?" Harry asked Ron's brothers, before continuing "There's nothing you can do: Ron's in Slytherin, and nothign can change that. So you can either suck it up and accept that he's still your brother, or you can wait a few months and accept him when your pride is satisfied," Harry said firmly, then turned to look at Ron who was looking the same as he had in the common room: a horrible shade of white. Apparently, he didn't like the words 'Ron in Slytherin.' "Woah, you okay? You're looking worse than you were in the common room."

That tripped the twins' sympathy; Ron didn't turn anything except red when he was angry or ashamed.

"We won't hate you – just don't let all the snakes turn you evil or anything," they smiled.

"I think my work here is done," Harry said. "Glad I could help."

Harry left them at the landing, and headed back to the Slytherin Dungeons.

* * *

"Hey, Draco," Harry greeted, when he was back in the common room.

"Where were you?" he demanded, as Harry took his seat back by the fire.

"I was getting a bit bored – and my arm a bit sore – of the girls, and decided to take a walk. I ran into Ron, crying 'cause he didn't think his brothers would forgive him. We talked and went to look for them, they forgave him."

"Oh," Draco said, wrinkling his nose. "I thought he'd be better than his family, oh well. He's back to blood traitor status."

Harry felt his heart fall, but remembered that Draco would have to be civil to the Mudbloods he hated, and smiled.

"Are our words getting through to you?" Blaise asked, misinterperating his smile.

"You could call it that," Harry smirked.

"Well, Draco here," Blaise motioned to his friend, "wanted to know what you were up to, and insisted that we stayed up with him – so I'm going to bed."

He got up, and Theo, Crabbe and Goyle followed through one door that said "Boys." Seeing as that was the _only_ door, Harry looked curiously at Draco, he had gotten used to Draco's apparent need to tell him everything and wasn't disappointed.

"When we all signed who we were rooming with," he started, "that was basically a magical contract. When you touch the doorknob you go into the room that you said you'd be in, but the magic has a limit, so only the boys' rooms are through here."

Draco went in, and Harry followed after.

"See?" Draco said.

"Mmm, hmm," was Harry's reply.

The room was once again, in green and silver (although Harry sort of guessed that): the velvet curtains on the two beds were deep emerald green, the stone here wasn't covered, the wall space free. On each side of the beds, which were facing each other, small black nightstands stood. There were two trunks, Harry's and Draco's, each of the boys were picking through their own trunk. Harry, for some book, he wasn't that tired and just picked out a book at random. Draco, for his pyjamas.

Harry was flipping through _Magical Drafts and Potions _randomly, looking at the table of contents and index, searching for something of interest. Finally he just started at the first chapter:_ What You'll Be Able to Brew When You've Finished This Section. _Disguisted, Harry flipped to something of more interest: _First Year Potions and Their Effects._

"Harry," Draco called.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed – he had gotten to the part about the Forgetfulness Potion.

"I'll be here, don't tell anyone I said that. But I'll be here for you, remember that."

Harry stopped reading, and looked over his book to see Draco propping himself up on his elbows, looking at him honestly. Harry looked at him curiously, but Draco lay back down and said goodnight. Still confused about what his friend meant, Harry returned to the Forgetfulness Potion. After another five minutes, not able to concentrate, he put the book away and shut off his light.

As soon as he shut his eyes, he drifted into strange, mysterious dreams. Draco was standing in front of Harry, wand raised, and across from him was Ron and Hermione, wands raised as well. Looking on, jets of light came from each of the three wands, sometimes hitting, sometimes not. Harry wanted to help, but didn't know what he could do; searching through his robes, he couldn't find his wand. There was a large flash of green light, Harry's scar burning fiercly, and he woke up.

Breathing heavily, Harry sat up. Telling himself that his dream meant nothing, nothing at all, wasn't helping the fact that Harry thought that it did. Clutching a hand to his scar, Harry bounced back onto his bed. That wasn't important, Harry thought. It _wasn't._ Closing his eyes again, Harry's last thought was _I hope it wasn't..._

* * *


	7. The Potions Master

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

**Few notices first.**

**Number One. A lot of you are probably thinking that I'd forgotten about you lot and this story, unless you looked at my profile. That's a no. I'm very, very sorry I haven't updated in 2 weeks... really? Has it been that long? Seems like a month... Anyways, my computer had broken down (the fan or something with the fans, I don't know; I'm hopeless with computers) and I hadn't backed up my stories (they weren't lost, it wasn't the motherboard -- the one computer term I know! -- they didn't touch that) and now I got it back an hour ago, and had done all the things I hadn't done in a long time. It's a case of you don't know what you have 'till it's gone; two weeks without a computer?! Gasp!**

**Number Two. The song. I know, I know, I know. This song is very slow/sad/whatever you wanna call it, and I know that the song doesn't fit the chapter (once again, notice the lack of link) ****The song's theme/mood doesn't fit the chapter -- I know that, but it fits _Snape. _I don't think that it'll be a Snape/Harry mentor thing -- and all you slash fans who are thinking Draco/Harry or (after this chapter) Snape/Harry... um... no!**

**Number Three. General little message. I'm trying to stay as close as I can get to the book/s with Slytherin Harry and Harry-and-Draco-are-friends Harry, and Hermione will be in the next one I think, Hermione and Ron -- so, be patient, they're coming.**

**Now, read on...**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: THE POTIONS MASTER**

_There's just too much that time cannot erase…  
- Evanescence _"My Immortal"

"Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"The boy beside the Malfoy!"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the second he left the common room. It became quite irritating, but Draco told him to ignore them; they were jealous that he had defeated a great wizard. It wasn't too hard to ignore them all, but everyone staring at his forehead instead of at him was more than irritating. People going back and forth past him, just to see his scar was ridiculous, and it was harder to find his classrooms than Harry thought – but Harry found out that, if he found them once, he could do so again.

One of the more shocking things that had happened was the first morning, the breakfast during which the Howler came for Ron…

Since, in Draco's words, Ron had retreated to blood traitor status, Harry had avoided him as much as possible - he didn't want to insult him again and again. When the bet was over, Harry planned to make up with Ron and, hopefully, be friends. But at the moment Ron sat at the other end of the Slytherin table during meals. When mail came, Draco's eagle came bringing a note and parcel filled with sweets, which he shared at the table with Harry and Blaise. When the three boys had eaten half the box an explosion rang out from Ron's end of the table.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" a shrill female voice shrieked, cracking Harry's glasses -- which he hid quickly. "YOU HAVE BROKEN THE CENTURY-LONG TRADITION OF GRYFFINDORS! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME UPON THE ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR SORTING!"

With that, there was another blast and the letter was set aflame. Harry could just see the top of Ron's bright red forehead as he ducked under the table.

"Well," Draco said, "he wasn't kidding when he said his mother would yell. Howlers aren't meant to be that loud."

Harry took out his glasses and looked through them. There was a jagged crack in the right lens that resembled Harry's own lightning bolt scar. "Just great," he muttered ironically. Then he rose his voice, "Draco, you know how to fix these?" he held up his glasses.

Draco took them and handed them to the Prefect a few seats down, who looked at them, then tapped them with his wand and passed them back to Draco. "There," he said triumphantly. Harry put them on and looked at Ron, he was starting to sit up again, but was still scarlet.

"C'mon, Harry. It's Charms first thing," Draco said, tugging on his arm.

"Yeah, alright," Harry mumbled, following one friend out, and leaving the other, humiliated one, behind.

Harry rather enjoyed the lessons. Even History of Magic – it was a great class to take a nap in. He was looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts – no matter what Draco thought – but it was sort of a joke. The class smelled of garlic, and Quirrell's turban also carried a funny smell. Charms wasn't too bad, often it was a lot of fun, Professor Flitwick was freakishly short, but it didn't bother Harry. Transfiguration was the hardest lesson by far – the teacher didn't seem to like Harry either; after the first lesson he asked Draco about it. He said that everyone expected him to be in Gryffindor, and they thought it was a betrayal of something. Astronomy was hard, but Harry found him looking at the skies in wonder – he never knew that the stars had names, and the order of the planets, and how they were named. Potions was interesting...

"What've we got today?" Harry asked happily over breakfast, there was only nine days of Harry's end of the deal left.

"Double Potions with the Gryffindorks," Draco replied. "Potions should be fun, and hopefully Snape can put them in their place." He often referred to the Gryffindors like that.

As they went on with breakfast, mail came. Draco's large eagle came bringing a box of sweets that he opened right there. To Harry's surprise Hedwig came down to him, with a letter on her leg, "Hello," he said when she landed in front of him. He untied the letter, and read the messy handwriting.

_Dear Harry,  
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  
I want to hear all about your first week. Send your answer back with Hedwig.  
Hagrid._

"You're not stupid," commented Draco, after reading the letter himself. "You know to send this back with... Hedwig? Nice name for an owl."

"Thanks and thanks," Harry said smiling.

"You gonna go?" Draco asked casually.

"I think I might," Harry took the letter and wrote _Sure, see you soon_ on the back of it.

Draco exchanged a look with Blaise before asking, "Mind if I come with you?"

"Not at all," Harry said, while he was tying it to Hedwig, she kept trying to take a few of his cornflakes. When Harry let her, she stood still and after another minute, she took off. "Potions first? Alright, let's go." Harry stood up and went back to the dungeons. Before he left the Hall with Draco, Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle on the sides, Harry saw Snape glaring at him again.

Harry and the rest of the new Slytherins knew how to navigate the dungeons like the back of their hand, Professor Snape demanded it. They went into one of the largest dungeons, and took one of the tables with Draco, Blaise and Theo.

A few minutes later, Harry saw the other Gryffindors and Slytherins file in. Ron gave him the same sad smile that he'd been giving Harry all week – Harry was determined to not run into him or Hermione for the next nine days. The general chatter and gossiping was quieted instantly as Snape glided into the room.  
Harry felt the same respect as fear settled into the Gryffindors' faces. Snape also reminded Harry of McGonagall; they both had the gift to shut up a classroom with the simple fact that they were there.

Snape started to take the register. That thing got on Harry's nerves; when Flitwick took it, he fell of the chair when he came to Harry's name. Harry didn't want to know what Snape would do,if he glared at Harry for being there.

"Ah, yes," he stopped. "Harry Potter – our… new… _celebrity_."

The combined glares from Draco and Blaise made Snape return to the register. Harry shot a thankful look at the two boys, as Snape finished the roll call.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape whispered to the class, but even though his voice was quiet, everyone caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldrons with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't a big as bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry found it hard not to laugh at Snape's speech, looking around, he could tell that he was the only one – everyone else was too scared. But Hermione was at the edge of her seat, ready to show that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" Snape snapped abruptly. "What do I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry smiled at the angry professor, remembering from the books, "The most powerful sleeping potion in the world, called the Draught of Living Death, sir."

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asked, as if he didn't hear Harry's reply.

"In the stomach of a goat, sir; it can counteract most common poisons, acting as an antidote."

"What is the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?" Snape continued as if Harry hadn't spoken.

"Nothing, sir. They're from the same plant, aconite," Harry said innocently.

Grudgingly Snape moved on, and flicked his wand, ignoring Harry's response.

"The instructions are on the board for the Boil-Cure Potion."

Snape then swept about the class, pairing everyone together. Harry somehow ended up with Ron, who was sitting on the opposite side of the room.

"Hey, why'd you keep ignoring me? What's going on?" Ron demanded, when Harry had moved beside him.

Harry caught Draco's eye and took a deep breath before saying: "'Cause I don't want to spend time with blood traitors," with as much of a sneer as he could manage - which wasn't much.

Ron didn't say another word the entire class, but seemed deep in thought. Harry took over a lot of the potion; having studied the textbook the first night, and every night after – it was by far his favourite book, although he didn't like the class much.

In the middle of class, the boy working next to Harry and Ron had melted his cauldron, its contents running all over the dungeon floor. Within seconds the whole class was pulling up their legs and standing on their chairs. The boy, who had been drenched in the potion, was whimpering as boils sprung up everywhere.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking it off the heat? Take him to the Hospital Wing!" he ordered the boy's partner before turning on Harry. "You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? You get your detention back, stay after class so we can arrange it."

Truth was, Harry was feeling too bad for being so rude to Ron to notice what those next to him were doing – but he kept his mouth shut. He finished the potion with Ron in stony silence, and Harry was in an even worse mood when he had to arrange the detention with Snape.

"Potter," Snape sneered, "your father was the most arrogant, attention-seeking prat that I have had the misfortune to meet. It seems that his appearance wasn't the only thing you inherited. You will be polishing the silver in the Trophy Room tonight, no magic, doing some real work."

Harry just smirked as he left – he had much practice at the Durlseys', but the jibe about his father hurt more than he cared to let on.

"What's Snape having you do?" Draco asked when Harry took the seat beside him in the Great Hall.

"Cleaning the trophies in the Trophy Room tonight," Harry said, looking at Ron sadly.

"Did the youngest Weasel bother you in Potions?" Draco asked, when he noticed what Harry was looking at. "Huh?"

"No, but I did insult him."

"And you don't want to?" when Harry nodded, Draco just rolled his eyes. "He deserves it – he doesn't think that being a pureblood is anything special. And he tried to apologise to his many brothers for being in Slytherin - doing one thing right in his life. Then he's embarrassed about being in Slytherin - although a Howler that loud anyone would be embarrassed with. You gotta admit that everything else sounds wrong."

"Hey, Blaise!" Harry said thankfully, as their friend sat in front of them.

"What's up, mates? Harry, what'd Snape give you as detention?"

Before Harry could respond, Draco said, "Polishing the Trophy Room."

Whistling low, Blaise said, "There's a lot of crap in there. You'll be there all night, Harry."

"Just my luck," Harry said glumly.

"It's three," Draco said, trying to cheer Harry up. He certainly seemed eager to see the oaf earlier – the only reason that he was letting Harry go was because he thought that Harry should see how pathetic he is, maybe then he'd start talking with the others about issues.

"You sure you wanna come?" Harry asked as they made their way out of the castle.

"Yeah, sure," Draco replied absently.

A few minutes later, the two boys were looking at a wooden hut at the edge of the Forest. There was a crossbow and a pair of boots near the pumpkin patch. Harry knocked, it looked like Draco was too scared to get too close to the Forbidden Forest.

"Back, Fang," they heard a voice from inside, "_Back_!"

The door was opened and Hagrid was in the enormous doorway, holding onto a rather feisty, massive black boarhound.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry and, surprisingly Draco, greeted. Draco thought it would be best for Harry to find out how the monster was for himself.

"'Ello, Harry. Who's this?" Hagrid asked kindly when they were inside.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco introduced with his finest drawl.

"I'm Hagrid, any friend 'o Harry's is a friend o' mine."

Hagrid held out his hand and shook Draco's whole arm, as Draco looked around the one-roomed cabin. There was hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire and in the corner stood a large bed with a patchwork quilt draped over it.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, turning around to tend to the whistling kettle, and letting go of Fang who charged at Draco and knocked him off his chair.

"Oof, off! DOG!" Draco struggled to make the dog get off him, who was licking his ears enthusiastically. Harry grabbed the dog's collar and yanked Fang off his friend.

"You alright?" Harry asked.

Dusting himself off, Draco stood up and muttered, "Yeah, fine."

"Sorry fer Fang," Hagrid said from the kettle. "He gets excited 'bout visitors."

"Yeah, I can see that," Draco said sarcastically.

"Harry, yeh're a Slytherin," Hagrid said ineptly.

"Mmm-hmmm," Harry said absently, he was looking at the newspaper article that was on the table. _GRINGOT'S_ _BREAK_-_IN_ the headline read. "Draco, listen to this," he said. "_Believed to be the work of Dark witches or wizards unknown, a deep security vault was broken into on July 31. Gringots' goblins, while acknowledging the breach, assure nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, was in fact emptied the very same day."_

"You can't break into Gringots," Draco said. "It's impossible."

"Nothin's impossible," Hagrid said darkly as he brought the tea over. "'Specially for them Dark wizards."

Draco bit his tongue. Hard.

"Hagrid," Harry said in confusion, "_We_ emptied this vault on my birthday. You said it was Hogwarts' business?"

Hagrid dodged the questions and started to ask about their classes.

Thinking for a few minutes while Harry and Hagrid discussed lessons, Draco wondered what they were looking for, and where the package was now.

If it had such a deep security vault, it must be important, and have loads of magical protection... maybe deadly protection... it would be well hidden... the best place to hide anything is right out in the open... somewhere where someone said not to go... Harry said that Hagrid said it was 'Hogwarts' business...'

"The third floor corridor," Draco whispered.

"What?" Harry asked his friend.

"That's where this package is," Draco said. Seeing their blank faces he groaned and started to explain. Draco hated to explain himself, and often forgot that not everyone would -- or could -- think things through like he did.

Harry looked at him oddly when he had finished. "How do you know this?"

Draco shrugged. "You just have to think things through, it's not that hard."

They drank their tea in silence for a few minutes until Hagrid broke it.

"How yeh two like yer teachers?"

"Qurrill is a horrible teacher," Harry said at once. "McGonagall seems fair, but real strict. Flitwick's a good teacher - seems good, but a bit on the short side."

Draco sniggered; that was putting it mildly.

"Sprout is a bit too nice for a teacher, almost like McGonagall's opposite," Harry went on. "Then there's Snape." Harry made a face when he said the name, much to Draco's annoyance, even though he knew Harry had a reason.

"What's wrong with Professor Snape?" Hagrid asked, confused.

"He hates me," Harry replied bluntly.

"Nonsense," Hagrid waved away Harry's words with one of his oversized hands. "Why would he hate yeh?"

"My father," Harry said gloomily.

Draco listen more intently.

"You didn't say anything about that," Draco cut in.

"Sorry, forgot," Harry apologised. "He said that my father was the most arrogant, attention-seeking prat that he had the misfortune to meet and that I'd inherited that," Harry's eyes lit up for a second. "Hagrid, you said you knew my parents, right?"

Grudgingly, Hagrid nodded.

"Why'd Snape hate my father?"

"Err," Hagrid said uncomfortably. "Yer father was in Gryffindor and Professor Snape was in Slytherin."

Harry considered that; he knew the intense rivalry between the two houses - even though he didn't have a chance to engage in it yet - but that didn't seem like enough to hate someone as much as to insult them to their kids. So Harry asked about his mother.

If it was possible Hagrid looked even more awkward. "I don't think Snape had any real connection ter her in their Hogwarts years." But he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes when he said it.

"You're lying," Draco stated, making Harry jump; he had forgotten that Draco was there.

"I don' think this is any of yer business - either of yeh," Hagrid said gruffly. "It's Professor Snape's business, and his choice if he's gonna tell yeh or not."

"Then I'll go ask him," Harry said boldly, standing up.

"Me too," Draco said hurriedly, walking out.

"Yer leaving?" Hagrid asked, disappointed.

"We'll come back," Harry promised, as he shut the door behind them.

They ran back up to the school, but had no idea where Snape would be.

"Um… Harry?" Draco said, when they were in front of the front door. "Why do you need to know why Snape doesn't like you?"

"He hates me," Harry corrected harshly. "I'd like to know why, and if Hagrid's not going to say I'm going to Snape himself."

"If you must," Draco sighed. "He's probably in his classroom."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, and ran ahead of Draco.

"Harry! Slow down!" he could hear Draco calling after him.

Harry didn't really care if Draco followed or not.

A few minutes ago, Harry would have said that he wanted an answer to what made Snape hate him and treat him so unfairly, now, he wanted to know if his parents were horrible. Even to Snape. He wanted to know what type of people they were. And Harry knew that if Hagrid wasn't going to answer why Snape hated him, he'd probably just avoid the question about his parents.

If someone asked Harry what Dudley was like, his answer was going to be much different from Dudley's friends' - Harry didn't like comparing his father and Dudley, but he didn't know. That was the whole point. And he needed to know. I deserve to know, Harry thought fiercely. He didn't know why he was so angry, but it made him not run back to the Slytherin common room.

_I'm behaving like a bloody Gryffindor! _Harry thought in surprise as he hammered on the Potions Classroom door.

"Sir!" Harry called.

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**Hope you enjoyed. See ya later!**


	8. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

**I said that I'd update today, and I am. So here it is. I might update again today, but probably tomarrow. **

**This chapter has 3 parts, Harry, Hermione and Draco, let's call them. So there's three songs. In order. And I don't mean Heaven Help Us as an insult, to any who would take it as one.**

**/watch?v=Bz6FtH2AJcg**

**/watch?v=7k4JYnufb7Q**

**/watch?v=d1Xs8DycaOQ**

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**CHAPTER EIGHT: THE BEGINNING OF THE END**

_Somehow everything's gonna fall right into place  
If we only had a way to make it all fall faster everyday  
- Paramore _"Hallelujah"

_Isn't it strange how we all get a little bit weird sometimes.  
- Hanson _"Weird"

_But can't tell if I've been breathing or sleeping  
Or screaming or waiting for the man to call  
And maybe all of the above  
Cause mostly I've been sprawled on these cathedral steps  
While spitting out the blood and screaming  
"Someone save us!"  
- My Chemical Romance _"Hevean Help Us"

"Sir!" Harry pounded on the door.

In the few seconds that it took Snape to open the door, Harry wondered if he would murder him. Seeing his face, Harry thought his chances of living through this were quite slim.

"Mr Potter," Snape said silkily, "there are no classes for first years this afternoon, I thought that would penetrate your impenetrably thick skull."

Harry wasn't going to bother telling Snape that that sentence was impossible.

"No, sir. I came here to ask why you hate me." Harry glared at the Potions Master.

"Oh?" Snape seemed truly surprised. "And why would you need to know such a thing?"

"Because I deserve to know," Harry said. "Was it something to do with my parents?"

Something stirred in Snape's eyes and Harry knew that he hit a bulls-eye.

"Was it my father?"

Snape's mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Why would you think so?"

"You called my father an attention seeking prat!" Harry exclaimed.

"That was the truth, Potter," Snape said slowly. "Your blessed father strutted about the castle, hexing anyone that was in front of him, simply because he could. He did most things that he did because people loved him; they worshipped the ground he walked on for the little talent he had on the Quidditch Pitch."

Snape looked like he was enjoying himself as Harry's anger receded and turned to horror.

"Now, excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

And he slammed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Harry thought over Snape's words again and got his anger back…

"PROFESSOR!" Harry hammered the door again.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Why must you insist to break down my door?" Snape sneered dangerously as he opened the door again.

If Harry was worried about his chances of survival the first time, he was terrified that Snape was going to kill him then and there.

"That c-can't be true!" Harry stuttered.

"Is the famous Harry Potter too good for the truth?"

"You -- you -- you!" Harry was about to call Snape something that would get him a month's worth of detentions, but thought better of it.

"Perhaps you should finish that sentence," Snape suggested.

Harry held his tongue.

"Now, good day."

Snape slammed the door again, and Harry stalked angrily away, cursing the Potions Master under his breath. But within a minute his anger wore off and the real issue came to his mind as Harry slowed down, attempting to think.

_He's got to be lying,_ Harry thought as he walked out of the dungeons. _He's just got to; it's something else, then._

Harry couldn't and wasn't believe that his father was just so… so… so much of an attention seeking prat. _What Snape told me has got to be some sort of stretch of the truth._ He didn't think that someone could be such a good actor as to say that in complete conviction, so there should be some grain of truth in it. Harry winced. This was his father even if he never knew him, he was half of Harry and he wasn't going to believe that he was so horrible.

Harry kept his head down and walked through the dark stone corridors by memory, heading for the Great Hall or the courtyard where he left Draco, he didn't know which, he just kept walking up the spiral stairs.

_He probably was just good at Quidditch and others appreciated him for it. Yes, that has to be it! Snape was jealous about his skill and he was good at jinxes and hexes, but didn't hex and jinx everyone he met. _Harry was happy that he had figured out the truth in Snape's lies, so much that he was almost smiling, but something was nagging him, almost like he had missed something important.

Then it hit him. Why would Snape still be jealous? Harry's stomach dropped ten feet. _Maybe the house competition and the jealously Snape kept for so long_. But the words sounded false, there must be something else -- why would he hate Harry? Harry refused to believe that his father was so bad, so he skipped over to his mother.

Just as he was coming out of the dungeons and was going to the viaduct when he nearly ran into someone.

"Sorry," he mumbled and was going to walk by them when a shrill voice stopped him.

"Oh, yes, go on! Don't mind the _Mudblood_!"

Harry already had an idea about who he had bumped into, and sure enough, when he turned around, Hermione Granger stood there. If he was in his right mind, Harry probably would have left without a word, worrying that Draco would see him and the bet negated -- that he wouldn't try. But Harry wasn't in his right mind.

"Sorry," he said louder, then softened a bit when Hermione lost some of her anger. "You're not a Mudblood," he whispered.

"Um -- who, what? _What_?" she spluttered at him.

"You're not a Mudblood," Harry repeated. "You're a good witch, better than I am a wizard. You shouldn't be called a Mudblood."

He had seen her in Potions and knew that she was quite good, and Harry had already decided that no one deserved to be called a Mudblood -- it just seemed like it was such an insult.

"But you call everyone of my birth one," Hermione reminded. "Why should I be any different?"

For the thousandth time, Harry wished that he hadn't made the deal with Draco. It was true, he had called other Mudbloods "Mudbloods" to their faces when Draco was there. When he wasn't, Harry just moved on, ignoring them.

"You aren't," Harry said simply. "But Draco isn't here."

He could practically see the wheels turning in Hermione's head. She was trying to think back to whenever she had seen him be rude to blood traitors or Mudbloods -- was Draco in the picture somewhere? After a minute or so, she asked, "Why do you stay friends with him, then?"

"Draco's a good friend when he isn't spouting pureblood crap. And I have a bet -- more of a deal, really -- with him. That I'll do things his way for two weeks and then he'll, as he put it, 'give the filth a chance.'" Harry air-quoted. "We're both hoping to turn the other to our way of thinking. He's hoping that I'll be a 'proper wizard' and look down on everyone who isn't a pureblood, and pretend to be one myself. I'm hoping that he'll learn some sense and be a -- he doesn't even have to be good, but half-way would just fine with me."

Whatever Hermione had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

"Oh," was all she could say. "I-I suppose that that's a good reason," she said a bit later as Harry was walking away. "So when the four weeks are up you can both do what you want?" Hermione asked as she caught up with him.

"Pretty much." Harry shrugged. He was quite happy that she agreed that the price of two weeks being completely offensive to anyone and everyone until he knew of their blood-status was worth it if Draco could change. "A lot of people wish that they could change one thing about someone, and this is my one chance to change Draco, so I'm taking it."

"I won't take anything you say or do to me or someone else to heart for the next…?"

"Nine days," Harry supplied. "Thanks, Hermione. I don't want everyone to hate me after this. I think that may be why Draco wanted me to try this first; so that if I didn't change, everyone else would think that I was a… a… whatever you call it, and no one would bother to try and 'change me' back, so I would probably believe in the pureblood stuff later."

"You won't," Hermione said, letting him walk ahead of her, she turned around and went to another courtyard to read.

She had sat down, taken out Hogwarts: A History and had gotten to the part about the Four Founders when a large shadow came over her book. Squinting up, all she could see of the person was his Slytherin robes.

"You seen Harry Potter?" a snide voice asked from above her. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and then came out of the light and went around to see her properly. "Hello, Mudblood," he mockingly. "Have you seen Harry Potter?"

This question took Hermione off guard, it wasn't the actual question, but how he asked it. She assumed that he would be disgusted to have to stoop to asking 'Mudbloods' to find his friend, but he wasn't. if anything, he was curious, and a bit worried. For Harry, she thought.

"Are you stupid?" Malfoy demanded sharply, regaining what Hermione had seen in the compartment; his complete and total arrogance. "I asked you a question!"

"I heard you," Hermione said curtly, slamming her book. "I'm just wondering why you were almost civil to a Mud--person like me."

Malfoy's grey eyes glinted dangerously, but looked at oddly.

"Don't look at me like that!" Hermione snapped. "I don't know where Harry Potter is! Now, go away."

She opened the book again, and expected Malfoy to walk away or to stand there insulting her some more, but he did neither.

"You are very weird, even for a Mudblood," Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

"In what way?" Hermione asked, keeping her eyes on the page, but not reading anymore.

"You aren't ignorant of magic, not completely. You aren't weak and stupid. You don't have -- what?" he said when Hermione looked up at him, holding back a smile.

Harry's plan might be working, she thought. Malfoy just might be changing.

* * *

What am I doing? Draco demanded of himself. What is wrong with me? he asked, but he knew the answer. It had nothing to do with him, it had something to do with the Granger girl. She didn't seem like the cheating, sneaky, idiotic, ignorant, unimportant, pathetic Mudbloods his father had told him about. She was the one that was different. It has nothing to do with Mudbloods in general, Draco thought. It's just that she's different. I've seen loads of real Mudbloods, but she isn't one of them.

"You are a very weird, even for a pureblood," Granger said, returning to her book, but Draco could still see her half smile.

Draco sat a little away from her, thinking, staring up at the sun. He ran through each and every reason that he thought of the Mudblood as different. Everything from she was smarter than him to he was just worried about how things went with Harry and Snape. Draco let out a dark chuckle, he didn't want to be in Harry's shoes if he was disturbing Snape, he knew from experience that Snape could get quite angry.

His eyes wandered over the courtyard. There were a lot of people playing Gobstones or Wizard Chess, or even Exploding Snap and trading Wizard Cards. A few people here and there were doing homework in the sunshine, others were talking in little groups, and there were a few that were simply reading. Draco's eyes rested on the Granger Mudblood again, she was watching him. When he returned her gaze, she blushed and kept reading.

Smirking, Draco looked at the snake statue above him. Wondering, again, what was wrong with him. He hated it when he couldn't figure something out -- normally he could do it within a minute, and a mystery was the most annoying thing in the world, this one even worse because he felt like he didn't even know himself anymore. The familiar stranger. He didn't want to go and look for Blaise or Theo, or even Crabbe and Goyle to protect him -- the only temper that could be worse than Snape's was his father's, now he didn't care if he aggravated his father.

Draco wasn't particularly interested in the Mudblood in particular. He wanted to find Harry, but could care less why Snape hated him -- the only thing that Draco would have needed to know was that Snape hated Harry and that was that. He wanted to talk about their bet, their deal, their compromise. Draco looked back at the Mudblood and realized that she looked like any old pureblood, if he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was anything.

_"That's what makes them so devious, they can appear like they are of any blood-status, but they are no better, even worse, than Muggles." _His father's voice came back to him from years ago. Draco remembered his response to that.

_"Why, father?"_ A simple why and it had lead to a long lecture from Aunt Bella.

Draco wanted to find Harry not because he wanted to discuss their deal, but because he wanted to discuss beliefs, because, at the moment, he was sticking by that why.

Draco felt as lost as Harry must have in the Wizarding World, but Harry had him and the others to help him. Who could help Draco when he was lost in himself? He didn't know what he thought anymore. A single Mudblood had made him question his entire belief system, made him wish for the days when nothing really mattered. Draco could feel the colour draining from his face. What would his father think of his son turned into a… a blood traitor! Draco didn't know and he didn't particularly want to find out.

Taking his eyes off the snake, Draco's eyes slid on the lion next to it. A bitter dread settled into him as he realised that he no longer agreed with his pureblood principals. He looked around the square again, trying to look for Mudbloods -- just as he expected, it didn't work. No one stood out, no one had Mudblood written on their foreheads. They were all the same, Draco considered his end of the deal; that he'd have to be nice to Mudbloods, blood traitors and the likes. That wasn't as shudder-inducing or as humorous as Draco had thought it on the train. It just seemed out of habit, he had learned that Mudbloods, blood traitors and the other filth were below him. That they were fit for slaves, and, of course, you don't treat slaves as equals.

Draco nervously chewed his lower lip and wondered how this would change things. He was no longer a proper Malfoy, a proper wizard. This wasn't good, he would have to hide this, but that didn't stop him from calling out, "Harry! There you are! I need to talk to you!" as Harry came into the courtyard.

* * *

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**I'll keep writing if you keep reviewing.**


	9. Never Mind & Pansy Pandemonium

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

**Two updates in one day. I've never done that before, this one may have more spelling errors, but if it's impossible or unreadable just say so.**

**/watch?v=d1Xs8DycaOQ**

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**CHAPTER NINE: NEVER MIND, MISTRUST & PANSY PANDEMONIUM **

_Make your choice  
They say you've been pleading  
Someone save us  
Heaven help us now  
Come crashing down  
We'll hear the sound  
As you're falling down  
- My Chemical Romance _"Heaven Help Us"

"Harry! There you are! I need to talk to you!" Draco called out when he saw Harry enter the courtyard.

"What's up?" Harry said, when he went over to him.

"Can we --" Draco changed his mind and shook his head, _I'll talk to him later, he might see things my way now -- or rather, my old way._ "Never mind with me, how'd it go with Snape?"

"He isn't too pleased with me," Harry laughed, looking at his friend in concern. "You okay?"

"Me?" Draco asked, his voice oddly high, he tried to control it to no success. How do you control something like that? "Yeah, I'm fine. You find out why Snape hated you?"

"My father," he replied glumly. "He apparently hexed others for fun and was worshiped for his Quidditch ability. I think Snape was lying, though," Harry cheered up, "he was probably jealous and the house rivalry thing -- my father was Gryffindor."

"What about your mother?" Draco asked absently, glad that Harry was caught up in talking so that he could calm down.

"I actually forgot about her," Harry frowned. "I might ask later, who knows? But I did hammer his door down, I don't think I'll ask for a while."

"You knocked down Snape's door?" Draco repeated, impressed; he didn't know anyone who would dare that.

"Almost," he corrected. "Wanna go back inside, it's bloody hot out?"

Draco looked over at Granger, thinking that maybe he should stay there -- he'd like to talk to her for a while longer -- but he didn't want Harry to be suspicious.

"Yeah, sure."

For once in as long as Draco could remember, he let someone else take the lead. They went back to the cool Slytherin Common Room, seeing Weasel come out. Draco saw the glare that blood traitors and Mudbloods normally gave him, but now the little Weasel had a glare for both him and Harry, who looked away, abashed.

"Something happen with the Weasel?" he asked Harry.

"No, Serpent-Tongue."

The wall moved in a way characteristic to Diagon Alley and they stepped into the green and silver room.

"How'd things go?" Blaise asked from a chair near the fire. Theo was also there.

"You, move!" Draco snapped to two first years who had taken the seats beside Blaise. They scurried away to join their own sort.

While Harry reencountered their visit to Hagrid's -- the way he spoke of the oaf indicated that he didn't mind him; Draco's plan didn't work, but since he was going to be a blood traitor he might as well go all the way. His father had always said that you were born a proper wizard or born a blood traitor, Draco started to wonder if he had always been like this and had been lying to himself this whole time.

"_Snape's_ door?" Theo asked in shock.

Draco smirked, "That's right."

"Wow," Theo said.

Harry said the rest of it, and then asked what they had been up to while they had visited Hagrid and Harry had pissed off Snape.

Draco got a bit bored of the talk, but knew that they would be suspicious if he had left. Blaise was starting into some new gossip -- _Why can't people just shut their mouths about one another?_ -- and Pansy had come over -- _Merlin, no! _-- when Draco thought it safe to leave, but he had barely moved when he heard Pansy's voice in his ear.

"Drakie, you gonna leave so soon?"

Draco shuddered at the nickname, but didn't want to correct her; Pansy was easily offended and had a horrible temper. He knew from experience. He would have to sit it out.

"Not at all," Draco lied smoothly, and proceeded to ignore her -- even as his arm grew numb -- and tune out Blaise's gossip that Pansy and Theo were so desperately listening to. Harry, apparently, didn't like gossip either.

After Blaise's boredom, Theo discussed acts and things that he would set in place, should anyone be crazy enough to elect him Minister. Harry looked very uncomfortable and Draco very irritable.

He had gotten lost in his thought and was staring into the green and silver fire, tracing the fine designs and shapes in the flames.

"_Draco_?" Blaise called his name, and by his tone, it didn't seem to be for the first time.

"What?"

"You're unusually quiet. You didn't even bother telling me to shut up, or telling Theo that no one in their right mind would make him Minister or Head of the Law Department to add these acts. What's wrong with you?"

_More than you would care to know, _Draco thought dryly, but there was no way that he was going to say _that_.

"Not much. I'm just tired and well…" here he looked pointedly at Pansy, who was calling over Daphne, much to Harry's horror.

"Oh," Blaise smirked. "I thought it was something else. But the girls have gotten rather…"

"Rather _what_, Zabini?" Pansy snapped, her eyes flaring.

"Nothing, nothing," Blaise said hurriedly. He didn't have the lying skills that Draco had, but Pansy was easily fooled so that didn't matter.

"Alright," she said happily. "If you'll excuse me for a minute…" she stood up and went to the bathroom.

"Run, mate, run!" Theo whispered.

"Don't have to tell me twice!"

Draco ran for it, and didn't stop until he was outside. He knew Pansy was quite fast and was sure to go Draco-Chasing soon. He put his hands on his knees when he was in the entrance courtyard, and bent over breathing heavily.

"DRACO MALFOY!"

"Son of Merlin!" he swore, and kept running.

He had darted in and around the statues in the courtyard, and decided that he'd have to hide for a while. So Draco went from the entrance square at full speed, down some steps that he remembered going up; apparently he was going to the boathouse. When he got there, he saw a portrait.

"Let me in," Draco begged. "A very angry girl is chasing me."

"Find the one with faces three; he will say what to bring to me," the portrait rhymed.

"What in the name of--"

"MALFOY!"

"-- does that mean?"

"DRACO SCORPIUS MALFOY!" yelled Pansy again, the closest she'd gotten.

"Goodbye, cruel world," Draco whispered.

He ran through the other side of the boathouse and up a bloody hill, hoping it lead to where he thought it did. Eventually he saw a great archway, and went in. The Paved Courtyard greeted him… again. This was where Harry had left him when he ran after Snape, and where he had… he didn't want to think it. Draco looked around desperately for a place to hide. There were many statues, but they were all too easy for Pansy.

"MALFOY!"

"How can you still run?" Draco marvelled.

He started walking around as naturally as he could when he was out of breath, sweaty and running away from a girl he was pretty sure was going to kill him. He saw the Granger girl still sitting on the same bench as earlier. Before Draco knew what he was doing, he was in front of her and saying, "Hide me."

The girl looked at him, considering it, and at the perfect moment -- the only time Draco was glad to hear her voice -- Pansy yelled again, "DRACO MALOY!"

"I'd like to be buried at Malfoy Manor, please," he panted.

"I have no idea where that is," Granger said. "But here!"

She dragged him around the courtyard, under the roof and shoved him in a broom closet.

"And stay there!"

Draco looked around at the assortment of rags, cleaning potions, brooms and mops. He leaned against the wall of the closet, breathing deeply, hoping that Pansy wouldn't hear his heart-rate. Then he heard Granger's obnoxious voice, "I have no idea where he went."

"Thank Merlin!"

Draco was surprised that she didn't sell him out to a girl that was ready to literally kill him. He had called her a Mudblood, thrown her from his compartment on the train, and had insulted trying to find out where Harry was. She had no reason to trust him, or do what he asked, but she did so anyway.

"You can come out now," Granger said and pulled open the door.

The sunlight flooded in and Draco squinted against the blinding daylight.

"A 'thank you' wouldn't be out of order," she said scathingly.

"Thanks, Granger."

"Did you just call me Granger?" she asked in shock.

"That's your name isn't it?" he snapped.

"Hey, be politer or I'll set that pug on you!" she threatened.

"Remember though, Malfoy Manor, white ash coffin, please," Draco said.

"What'd you do to make her so angry?" Granger demanded, leaning against the door frame, blocking his exit.

"If you must know," Draco said loftily, "I ran from her when she went to the bathroom. That's not funny! She's really clingy!"

"Guys!" Granger snorted through her laughter. "Can't you handle a girl?"

"Not that one, she's got a temper from hell and is easily offended."

"If you run from her, she'll be insulted," Granger smirked.

"Thanks, again," Draco said, hoping that she'd move this time.

"Hermione Granger," she said, holding out her hand.

All of Draco's instincts were telling him to shove her away and go back to the Common Room, they were telling him that from when he wanted to go back to the Paved Courtyard. But he had wanted to see the girl again, he wanted to know that he didn't have to be bound in by his family's beliefs which he no longer agreed with -- the more he said it, the easier it became to accept. He was told by everything he was taught to walk right past her or make a snarky remark and leave, but this time Draco went with what he had learned himself.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, and took Grang-Hermione's hand.

* * *

**I think I did a very good job on this chapter, if I do say so myself, even if it's a little short. But 2 updates in one day, sorry, I'm happy about that.**

**Remember, I'll keep writing if you keep reviewing. **


	10. Help

**Disclaimer: **see another chapter

**/watch?v=YHqft8-W9f0**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER TEN: HELP**

_Help me  
Figure out the difference  
Between right and wrong  
Weak and strong  
Day and night  
Where I belong and  
Help me  
Make the right decisions  
Know which way to turn  
Lessons to learn  
- Nick Carter _"Help Me"

"You know where he went?" Harry asked a very angry Pansy.

"NO! That's why I was looking for him!" she fumed, as Harry edged away nervously.

"Alright," he said and started to walk around the courtyard where Pansy had last seen Draco.

He had looked behind each of the statues and had just started to just check out the overhang when he saw something that had his heart jump. Hermione. Or, more precisely, Draco smiling at Hermione. Then the smile abruptly disappeared.

"Harry! There you are! I need to talk to you!" Draco's voice was strangely high-pitched.

Hermione spun around to see Harry torn between smiling for Draco's abnormal behaviour or worrying about Draco himself. Harry looked at his friend and wondered what had happened -- it couldn't be the shock of seeing Harry; Draco had disappeared for over ten minutes. Blaise said that Pansy never gave chase for that long, so Harry went to look for him. Maybe it was because Harry had seen Draco being polite to a Mudblood, Hermione nonetheless. Nah, that couldn't be it. The beliefs may be in ground in him, but they shouldn't be something to be so embarrassed by.

His friend's appearance was alarming to say the least; Draco was always in control, he never showed any real emotion. Harry had seen him arrogant, proud, pleased, bored, annoyed -- but never like what he looked like now. Even though Draco was normally very pale he had achieved a shade of white that shouldn't be possible. His grey eyes were wide with shock? Horror? Harry wasn't sure, all he knew was that something not very good had happened to make Draco lose his nerve like that.

"'Course."

Draco relaxed at Harry's word, and recovered a bit of his swagger, brushing by Hermione and holding his head high again. He lead them back to the castle. Apparently he didn't want to be overheard, whatever he wanted to talk to Harry about. Draco looked into every corridor, classroom (much to the irritation of the teachers; classes were still on for the other years) and anything that had a door or archway. They had reached the seventh floor and found a deserted corridor with this weird tapestry of trolls on one side and a door on the other side. Like with every other room, Draco opened the door, but with this one he called Harry in.

"You sure don't take chances, do you?" Harry said weakly.

"I don't want anyone to hear," Draco said, his voice a bit shaky, but no longer as high.

They had opened the door to some sort of classroom, it looked like Transfiguration -- if the blackboard was anything to go by. Draco sat on one top of the desks and Harry took one across from him. Draco just looked at the walls, the desk, his shoes, anywhere but at Harry.

"Are you alright?" Harry worried.

Draco let out a bitter laugh. "Not really," he admitted.

"Then what happened? I've never seen you like this," Harry said.

"Like what?" Draco seemed really confused.

"Like what?" Harry repeated. When Draco nodded, it took all of Harry's control to not freak out, too. He really didn't know what mess he looked like. "You're a mess," Harry voiced the opinion. "You're white as a sheet and you look like you could go into a panic attack any second." _If you haven't already had one, _Harry added in his head.

"Not surprised," Draco said softly.

"What's wrong? Really."

Draco lifted his eyes and looked at Harry. Harry was surprised at how… how _scared _he was.

"I'm a mess," he finally said.

Harry bit his tongue to not say _I can see that_.

"How can I start?" Draco asked himself, running a hand through his hair -- a nervous gesture that Harry had never seen him do. "Remember what we talked about on the train?"

"What part?" Harry had an idea what Draco was talking about, but didn't dare to hope. "The houses? Sweets? The deal, or whatever? The War? Hermione? Mudbloods? Beliefs?"

At the first two Draco shook his head, but was completely still while Harry named the others.

"I… um… said that there might be a reality check. You know, with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters." Draco took his eyes off Harry and started to fidget with his robes. "I think I just had it."

"You want me to know this because… I saw you being nice to Hermione?"

"Partly," he shrugged.

"The others," Harry said in resigned tones, realising just how important something like this was and that they might not be so supportive.

"Yes," Draco said quietly. "The others wouldn't understand, and they are all over the beliefs, the customs, the War, the traditions, the Dark side, the everything." Draco seemed to be at the point that he wanted to really say, the thing that he didn't know how to. "I need help," he whispered.

Thinking that it would be inconsiderate to say _With what? _Harry settled on, "What changed your mind?"

Draco gave a half smile. "I met another kind of Mudblood."

"I thought Mudblood was just wizards and witches--"

"That's just it, though. My father said that Mudbloods were cheating, conning, stupid, ignorant, good-for-nothing, weak slaves who had taken magic from true witches and wizards. I met another kind of Mudblood -- that kinda made me see that I was wrong, _very_ wrong."

"Was that Mudblood Hermione?" Harry asked even though he knew the answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was," Draco said, he looked a bit better. He wasn't as pale, as in shock, but he was still teetering on the edge.

"What prompted you to be nice to Hermione?" Harry asked.

"She hid me from Pansy, shoving me in a broom closet," Draco smiled. "If any Mudblood hid me I'd be nice to them, but she… she was…"

"Different."

"Yeah."

"I noticed you looking at her before you came inside again, earlier," Harry said. Draco's eyebrows shot into his hair. "You wanted to talk about this, right?"

Draco couldn't say anything, so he just nodded. He was amazed that Harry had saw that, and still accepted him. He had chosen the right person to tell.

"So, what do you need help with?" Harry decided that Draco was good enough for him to ask the question.

"I don't know," he confessed. "But I think that I've just thrust all my values in the garbage, so I think that I'll need help. Although I think I'm an idiot for not throwing them out before."

"Why?"

"Because. Because the Death Eaters would torture and kill Muggles, Mudbloods and blood traitors. That's wrong, I know that… now. I know I have at least one cousin that I've never met and an aunt that I don't even know the name of because she married a Mudblood. That's messed up, as messed up as I am."

"No," Harry said gently. "You aren't messed up. You're trying to do the right thing. You're trying to do what you want to with your life. If that makes you messed up--"

"Then it's not worth it," Draco said dully.

"I was actually going to say 'then you should do it,'" Harry corrected, surprised by his friend's pessimism.

"No. Not if I'm gonna be like this!" Draco burst out. "I don't know anything! I'm -- I'm -- I'm--"

"Messed up, for now," Harry agreed. "But we're only eleven, you have your whole life to figure this out, to know stuff. You won't stay messed up forever; I won't let you. Even if the others will."

"T-the others?" Draco turned paler than normal again.

"The others you said wouldn't understand." Harry was regretting bringing them up.

"Oh, shit," Draco swore. "My parents, my family."

"They can't be so bad," Harry reasoned. "What's the worst they can do?"

"Disown me, throw me out to live on the streets. Declare me a blood traitor," Draco shuddered as Harry thought _That was a rhetorical question_. "Leave me with not a knut to my name. I'd have no one."

"You, clearly, have an overactive imagination," Harry tried to lighten the mood to no avail.

"You think I'm joking? I wish!" Draco laughed again, slightly hysterical this time. "That's what they did with the last blood traitor on my mother's side -- my father's side never had any. They disowned him, but he had run away already so they couldn't throw him out, they also cut off his money. I think some uncle or grandfather left him some money -- he was also disowned. Both were proclaimed blood traitors, the one that ran away was only sixteen. The Malfoys were always stricter with that sort of thing, so I wouldn't be surprised if I was disowned as soon as word got out…!"

Harry let Draco rant for a while but when his voice rose above what only dogs could hear, Harry stopped him.

"Alright! You are giving me a headache, so do shut up!"

Draco blinked but sat down -- he had been pacing for most of his angry speech.

"Good! Now, stop being such a drama queen and snap outta it!" Harry pointed a finger at Draco threateningly. "You are a Slytherin, right? If they're gonna disown you, throw you out etc etc, as soon as they find out…"

"Make sure they don't find out," Draco said helplessly, feeling like an idiot.

"Yes!"

"But they'll notice when I don't say anything on the War or anything else on Mudbloods," Draco protested.

"Just play along, or you can do what you want and come live with me if they kick you out," Harry said more confidently than he felt. The mental image of Draco strutting up to the front door of number four in school robes, and the Dursleys reaction was priceless.

Draco grinned at Harry. "Thanks."

"So, what're you gonna do?" Harry asked, brushing aside his thanks.

"Here or at home?"

"Both."

"I'll -- I'll do what I want, Mother and Father will soon find out and then I'll be prepared for Howlers."

"Don't be so cheerful," Harry muttered.

Draco stood up and looked around the room, not really wanting to leave. Harry had wanted this to happen since he met Draco on the train -- if he just abandoned his pureblood propaganda, he was a pretty okay guy -- so why was he feeling so weird? Was it because Draco was so terrified of the consequences of doing what he wanted, showing what he believed in and that he, Harry, was concerned? Maybe. Was it because Harry didn't think that Draco could change so quickly; that he expected him to see the light after his end of the deal was over, was he suspicious? No, Draco's rant certainly had feeling and his fear was genuine. Then it struck him, Harry decided to ask Draco himself.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a while.

"Go ahead," Draco replied, examining the chalk board.

"What happened to the Draco who was gonna throw me out of his compartment and ignore me for the rest of Hogwarts? The Draco that was claiming that Hermione had bad blood and threw _her _from the compartment?" Harry was wondering what had happened to him.

He took a deep breath and turned around to face Harry and smiled, not smirked, smiled. "He went away," was Draco's answer.

* * *


	11. Are You Out of Your Mind & Flying

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**CHAPTER ELEVEN: "Are You Outta Your Mind?!" & FLYING**

_You know it's all the same, another time and place  
__Repeating history and you're getting sick of it  
__But I believe in whatever you do  
__And I'll do anything to see it through  
__- Taylor Swift _"Change"

Slytherin! If he hated anything, it had to be Slytherin. Even though Fred, George and Percy accepted it, his mum had sent a Howler that shattered glass -- Ron took it that she didn't like it very much. He had written to Ginny a week ago.

_Hi Gin, _

_In the two weeks of being here, I miss you and Mum and Bill and Charlie. I really wish I could say that Hogwarts is horrible to make you feel better, but its awesome! Fred and George have already set off some Dungbombs and gotten a few weeks of detention for other things. Something that you probably already know is that I'm in Slytherin. That's right. Now, kindly pick your jaw up, I'm not freaking out… anymore. It's fine, and remember Harry Potter -- that boy from the Platform -- is in Slytherin, too. The _Daily Prophet _has already started a story about it. Bloody Rita Skeeter. It's insane, but it's fine. Fred, George and Percy have said that me in Slytherin is fine, I've started to have a few friends in different houses, so I'm not alone.  
How's home? When I'm kinda lonely, missing the Burrow, I make a list of what I miss. It's kinda long, so I won't add it. But it does include you and Mum at the top, along with my Cleansweep and Mum's cooking._

_Love ya, I'll write soon,  
Your youngest brother,  
Ron _

He still hadn't received her answer. Ron had tried to sound cheerful and happy, but he mostly just made up a bunch of stuff. He didn't have any friends; Potter had ignored him, the other Slytherins made fun of him being a blood traitor and not having money like they did, and the others from houses pitied him; not a good way to make friends, he had learned.

Ron went up to the Great Hall by himself, as usual, and pulled some toast towards him. Someone had left a newspaper beside him, so he took it and opened it.

_OUR SLYTHERIN SAVIOUR?_

Ron sighed, couldn't they come up with other things? It had caused quite a scandal when the 'saviour of the Wizarding World' had been Sorted into Slytherin, a house notorious for producing Dark wizards. When they found out that he was friends with a Malfoy -- Merlin help us! Ron didn't want to think how long that would go on. Along with being an old pureblood family, the Malfoys were some of the Death Eaters that no one could prove were Death Eaters. Ron continued reading.

_ When the tradition of Sorting eleven-year-old wizards and witches began at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, most knew that Harry Potter was going to be Sorted that year. What no one expected was that he would end up in Slytherin -- a house that has had every Death Eater to date. Nor that he would make friends with children of Death Eaters. Including the Malfoys, Zabinis, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons and others. Much mystery surrounds the night of October 31st, 1981, many theories have swept the country. No one knows the truth, but there is one theory more popular than ever before -- surprising since it was one of the least supported during the 1982 Poll (see pg 19 for results) but most now believe that Harry Potter He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named thought to be another Dark wizard and set out to kill him to make sure he had no competition. Harry Potter was struck with a Killing Curse and should have been blown apart, yet he survived with only a scar -- perhaps powerful Dark Magic in his early years. That would suggest that he had a natural Darkness in him, an affinity for Dark Magic. An intriguing theory, given Harry Potter's friends and Sorting. (continued on pg 14)_

Ron shut the newspaper, but wondered if Potter was a Dark wizard. _The bloody saviour certainly believes in the propaganda enough, _Ron thought angrily. He still hadn't forgotten when he was insulted, but Ron couldn't really guess what Potter was. He seemed to be Light or Dark depending on his mood.

Ron looked down the Slytherin table at Potter, who was laughing with Malfoy, Zabini and Nott. Sons of Death Eaters, not the first choice of friends most saviours take. Malfoy said something else, and a bell chimed; time for class. While Potter's friends continued out, Potter went right up to Ron and dropped something onto the table.

It was a little slip of parchment. Ron unfolded it and looked at the words. Only two, but it made him second-guess what he had just read, and what Ron had been thinking. He smiled and put the parchment in his pocket, swallowed his toast and slung his bag over his shoulder.

This time when he passed Harry and friends Ron had a smile for them. The little paper seemed to weigh heavy in his pocket as he could hear the question: "What does it mean by that smirk?" and Harry's answer: "I dunno." behind him. Ron took the paper out again when he reached the Transfiguration class and sat down, looking at the words.

I'm sorry.

* * *

"Still don't think you should've done that," Draco whispered to Harry.

"I know." Harry took out some parchment and a quill, starting to write down the notes on the blackboard, others did the same but Draco stayed stiff.

"If he finds out--" Draco started furiously, but Harry saw how worried he really was.

"He won't."

For the rest of the class there was just the scratching of quills and McGonagall's barking voice as they tried to turn a beetle into a button -- which no one, Slytherin or Hufflepuff alike, could do. When they left, Blaise came up to Harry and handed him a clipping from the _Daily Prophet_, smirking.As soon as Harry saw the title of _OUR SLYTHERIN SAVIOUR? _he threw it in the garbage.

"I don't wanna read about me," he said to Draco.

"I wouldn't either, but you've gotta get used to that stuff," he replied. "If you're famous, the _Prophet_'s always going to be looking for some story about you, and Rita Skeeter? Of course!" Draco turned to the others. "You guys go on ahead."

Blaise and Theo shrugged and walked off, but Crabbe and Goyle stayed.

"Go!" Draco ordered.

The two thugs left after the others, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

"Why are you still so jumpy?" Harry asked. And he was, whenever another friend would mention Mudbloods or Muggles or anything like that, Draco would leave the room angrily and when the others would get too close (one foot) he would inch away and bite his tongue. "It's been nearly a week. And cheer up; it's Flying next. How could anything happen in _Flying_? It's not Moral Class. Just calm down, you don't need to be so freaked until someone finds out!"

"I don't give a damn when they find out!" Draco snapped back.

"You've got to calm down," Harry repeated quietly. "If you're like this they'll find out in a few minutes that something's up. They aren't stupid, Draco. They'll add two and two together."

"I know. I know. They'll find out anyway." He took a deep breath and said his next words quickly. "So better sooner than later. They've gotta know."

For a long moment they didn't say anything.

"What?" Harry finally laughed, thinking Draco was joking. "You freak out that someone'll find out and now _you _want to tell them personally?"

"Who said anything about _me_ telling them?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!" Harry said, seeing where Draco was going. "You want _me _to tell them? Are you outta your goddamned mind?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Draco counter-asked.

Harry ignored Draco's question.

"When would you like me to?"

"Today."

Harry's eyes widened.

"When today?"

"After dinner."

He noticed that Draco was fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt and shuffling his shoes; exactly what he did when Mudbloods were brought up and he forced himself to stay put.

"You worried?"

"'Course."

"Why? I'm the one that's telling them! You just wanna get this over with?"

"Yes and no. Yes, I wanna get this over with. No, I don't want anyone to know."

Draco turned on his heel and went after the others. Harry followed him, deciding to not ask any other questions.

_So in a few hours' time I'll go to having just Draco and maybe Ron and Hermione as friends,_ Harry thought. _I just hope they've heard the phrase "Don't kill the messenger." If they haven't, I'm dead as dead can be. But they probably haven't… Goodbye, cruel world!_

He resolved not to think about it anymore, he had other problems: flying, for instance. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself on a broomstick; something, he knew, would set him apart from those living in magical homes. But that was easier said than done.

Harry then wondered what the hell was going to happen with Draco's parents. The way that Draco was acting about them, it seemed that they would be ready to kill him when he went home. He hoped that Draco was just overreacting, but a small part of him doubted that. Harry's mouth was open to ask the question, but he shut it. He didn't want to know.

* * *

"Alright, everyone step up to the right side of their broomsticks!" Madam Hooch barked. She had white hair and amber eyes, and a voice that rivalled McGonagall's. She wore blue and white robes that had a small crest on them: two broomsticks crossing, their handles pointing to the ground, and a large R.

Draco, Harry and the other Slytherins and Gryffindors stepped up to their broomsticks.

"Now, I want you to stick your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up'."

She demonstrated and the broom zoomed up to her waiting hand.

There were cries of, "Up" but most brooms turned on the ground, or just stayed still. Harry's, Draco's and some Gryffindor's also did. Harry's broom had a kick to it; it was shoving at his hand, trying to get in the air.

"Whoa."

Harry could feel the magic the broom was trying to release.

When most people's brooms were in their hands, Madam Hooch went around and directed the few that still had trouble; Hermione and a round-faced Gryffindor, to name two.

Madam Hooch returned to her place at the top of the two rows of kids and said, "I want you to mount your broom, make sure you grip firmly. You don't want to be sliding off the end."

She demonstrated again and watched the class swing their legs over their brooms and holding so hard that their knuckles were turning white.

Harry noticed that Draco was mounted differently; his hands were much farther up. Harry pointed that out and Draco snapped, "This is how I always do it."

He would normally be a bit offended, but he saw Draco's face and let it slide. His face was a shade of pale that Harry attributed to Mudbloods and beliefs, that showed his mind was clearly somewhere else altogether.

Madam Hooch went down the line, again, checking the grip and position of everyone. When she got to Draco, she redirected his hands, and got the same snippy response that Harry got. After being told that he'd been doing it wrong for years, Draco muttered something about his father and changed his hands.

"Now!" she said. "When I whistle, kick off from the ground hard, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down."

There were scattered nods from the kids, and a growing pit of anxiety started to come into clear focus and Harry realized he actually _was_ going to do this.

"One—"

Madam Hooch brought the whistle to her lips.

"Two—"

One Gryffindor boy kicked off before the whistle touched Madam Hooch's lips. He rose slowly, then faster and faster until he was at the hight of the tallest building. He shouted, "Down! Down!" at his broom, but it didn't work. It smashed into the wall again and again, then he fell and his shirt caught a decorative light on the closest wall. Then, with a sickening thud, his vest came off and he fell into a pile on the ground, whimpering.

Madam Hooch went over to him and said to the class, "Nobody move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing. If I see one broom in the air when I come back, the one riding it will be out of here faster than they can say Quidditch."

Draco bent down and picked something up from the grass. It looked like a very large marble, filled with white smoke with a gold band around the centre.

"Did you see the big lump?" He smirked. "Maybe if he gave this a squeeze, he mighht've remembered to fall on his fat arse."

Harry, not as inconspicuously as he wanted, kicked Draco in the shin. To his surprise, Draco kicked back and said to the crowd, "Maybe I should leave this somewhere for Longbottom to collect? How about... up a tree?"

He kicked off and rose twenty feet or so in the air, and started tossing the marble like a juggler. "Anyone want to join me?" he dared.

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked off himself. Rising into the air, the wind blowing through his hair, Harry forgot everything else, but it came back when he saw Draco's smile.

"C'mon, Draco, give it back," Harry asked. "What's so fun about this?"

"The look on his face when someone tells him what happened to his precious Rememberall."

Draco winked and raised his arm to throw it.

Harry leaned forward and urged his broom ahead. It worked, the broom shot forwards to Draco, who dodged it neatly.

Draco lowered his voice. "I need to do something to occupy my thoughts."

Harry was tempted to let him throw the Rememberall, but had a feeling that Draco was playing him.

"Just drop it."

"You asked for it."

Draco dropped the Rememberall and it fell fast, but Harry was faster. He leaned forward again and charged for the glass ball that was spinning for the ground. He caught it a foot from the ground and skinned his knees in the process, but he caught it. He held it up for Draco to see, but he was already on the ground with Blaise and Crabbe beside him.

Harry just hoped that Madam Hooch wasn't back yet and no teacher saw that.

A few others clapped him on the back, Harry gave Ron the Rememberall and said, "You give this to the boy."

Someone asked why he did that and everyone else fell quiet. Apparently, they all wanted to know why. Including Harry. Maybe he had wanted to help Draco. Maybe he wanted Draco to be a better person. Maybe he just didn't want that boy to fall from a broom, make an idiot of himself and lose his Rememberall. But those were answers that Harry didn't really want to give.

"I wanted to," Harry replied.

"Class dismissed!" Madam Hooch just came back, and had shouted the words to the class, scaring everyone – Harry most of all. "We'll continue next time."

* * *

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	12. Quidditch & Don't Kill the Messenger

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

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**For those of you that think I'm gonna stop this or put it up for "adoption". I finish what I start. The updates are going to be slow, but I will finish this. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE: POTTER! & DON'T KILL THE MESSENGER**

_In this farewell  
__There's no blood  
__There's no alibi  
__'Cause I've drawn regret  
__From the truth  
__Of a thousand lies  
__So let mercy come  
__And wash away  
__What I've done  
__I've faced myself  
__To cross out what I've become  
__Erase myself  
__And let go of what I've done  
__- Linkin Park _"What I've Done"

"Um... Draco?" Harry said hesitantly.

"What?" Draco asked lazily.

They were in the common room, after last period. There was a half hour before dinner – coincidently, the time that amount of time he had to live, Harry thought dryly. Harry and Draco were spending more time alone, something that the others hadn't missed – maybe Crabbe and Goyle, but they didn't really count – and soon they'd find out why.

"How do you play Quidditch?"

Draco smirked slightly, then burst into laughter.

"A-are you serious?"

Harry looked at the ground, embarrassed. He had a feeling that he'd just asked something like, "How do you play soccer?" in the Muggle world.

"Alright, then." Draco stopped laughing, but couldn't stop smirking. "There's three balls and seven players on brooms. There's a Keeper, three Chasers, two Beaters and a Seeker on each side. One of the balls is big and red, that's the Quaffel. The Chasers toss it back and forth to score through big hoops, the Keeper guards his side. There are also two black Bludgers that zoom around trying to knock players off the brooms, anyone. The Beaters keep the Bludgers from their team and send them to the other team. The last ball is small and gold about the size of that Rememberall, actually. That's the Golden Snitch. It flies around, and the Seekers are meant to catch it. The game can only end if the Snitch is caught. The team that catches it earns an extra 150 points."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco had fallen into his pattern of talking so fast that it gave Harry a headache. But he thought he got it... maybe he just had to see a game of it. Or play it himself, he'd love to be back on a broomstick. This time on better terms, maybe Quidditch would be something he'd enjoy.

"You know anyone older that'd lend us some brooms?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I think Terence and Adrian might," Draco said thoughtfully.

Harry had no idea who they were, but he wanted to take a shot.

"Can you go ask them?" he asked impatiently when it became clear that Draco wasn't going to move.

Draco rolled his eyes, but turned in his chair. "Oi, Higgs! Pucey!"

Two guys turned around and looked at Draco. He ushered them over and asked for their brooms.

"Why?" one of them asked.

"Terence." Draco shook his head slowly. "You don't need to know _that_."

"We want to know if you're gonna give them back, _Malfoy_," Adrian spat out Draco's name like a curse.

"We will," Draco said smoothly, a tone Harry recognised. Draco was lying, or at least not sure if they would.

Terence and Adrian looked at each other and shrugged. They went into their rooms and came out with two brooms.

"Cleansweep 290s," Draco said approvingly, looking at the brooms. He tossed one to Harry and said to Terence, "We'll be back."

They marched out the common room and as soon as they were in the dungeons, Draco said, "Now what?"

"Now, we go flying. Thought you might want to come." Harry shrugged.

"It's fine, I do. But do you know how much trouble we'd be—" Draco stopped abruptly when he saw the look Harry was giving him. "I'm not scared!"

"Then let's go."

Harry wasn't sure where his excitement came from, maybe the anticipation of flying and the wonderful feeling that there was something in the wizarding world that he couldn't screw up, or didn't have to think about. But he was pretty sure that he just wanted to be free for a night. Not worried about Hermione and Ron or Draco and what he'd have to tell the others later, or about the deal – which Harry was positive was void now. Just for one night, or even just an hour, he could do something fun. Something that he could do without Draco guiding him, or worrying about it overnight. Even if Snape caught them, Harry would just like to see the expression on the teacher's face.

The cool air was refreshingly clean as they went to the Quidditch Pitch. It was about five o'clock, so they had an hour or so before... before dinner. Draco looked uncertainly at Harry, who grinned back.

"Scared?" Draco asked

"You wish."

"Yeah," Draco mumbled, "I _do_ wish, actually."

They mounted their brooms – Draco defaulting back to his original position – and took off. Harry knew then that he made the right choice. The air rushing through his hair, the speed as he zoomed around the pitch, even the cold September wind was welcome. They slowed down after nearly forty-five minutes, but much too soon for Harry, and sat on the stands.

As soon as Harry's feet were back on the ground, he felt the worry and anxiety come back on him with a physical weight. He tried to shut them out, but it didn't work. There was still the nagging little voices of concern and nervousness.

"You know what, Harry? You'd make a pretty good Seeker," Draco said.

Harry looked at the pitch and the flags fluttering in the breeze, which seemed so mellow now, and tried to remember what Draco had said about the Seeker position. Something about catching a Snitch. Harry wasn't a tattle-tale, but then remembered that the Snitch was a small ball about the size of – what did Draco say? The Rememberall?

"Mmhmm." Harry shrugged the question off. From what Draco had said, Quidditch sounded like a very hard game and Harry wasn't sure he could be a Seeker, which sounded like the key position.

Then the person he least wanted to meet when Harry was holding a broom that he wasn't meant to have and had just flown for what seemed like forever. Snape.

"We're dead," Draco said quietly.

* * *

Snape had just stepped out from the third floor corridor. He had just finished placing his defence for the Stone and the praise that the others had given wasn't something that did anything to lighten his mood. The only thing that could would be Potter thrown out of Hogwarts – just like what should have happened with his father.

Before he went back to his dungeons, Snape decided to look around. Perhaps he could land a Gryffindor in detention. There were none in the halls, so Snape went outside. There might be a Gryffindor first year trying to ride a broomstick. He saw two figures on the pitch. Not enough for a team, and not big enough to be anything else but first years.

Snape started to walk towards them with a smile on his face when he realized how _good_ one of them was flying. As if he had done nothing else his whole life! Another reason to get the boy in trouble, Snape thought. When he got closer, he recognised both of them. One of them was definitely Draco – his style was unmistakable. The other was Potter. For a second he was eleven years old again, seeing James Potter and his lackey Sirius Black taking a night time ride. Then the present zapped him back. Potter was dead and Black was where he belonged.

Draco and Potter were flying around the pitch and as Snape watched, once again, he couldn't deny – to himself, at least – that the Potter boy could certainly fly. And fly _well_. It took him a few seconds before Snape realized that Potter was Slytherin and his fate with him. He actually _could_ get Potter expelled!

He watched them for a little longer, though. He knew Lucius would kill him if he got Draco expelled. But what else could he do? Ignore it and write to Lucius perhaps. He couldn't and wouldn't lie to Dumbledore.

Just then, Potter pulled out a fifty-foot dive, clutching a handful of something – grass?

_How extraordinarily like his father, he is._

Then Snape saw that he had one more option. He could, _could_ have Potter put on the Quidditch team. He scowled. He couldn't ignore it, he wasn't going to lie. That left one option. He didn't like it, and everyone was probably going to be very surprised. But with the talent, Snape knew that Potter would be valuable to the Slytherin Team.

But the more he watched Potter and Draco fly, the more he was starting to like the idea. There was Potter's ability, which was better than his father's by a thousand, and the fact that James Potter must be rolling in his grave. At having a Slytherin son; one roll. Having the son play on the Slytherin Quidditch team; sitting upright in his grave saying, _"What the hell?"_

Both of the boys landed and Snape decided to give Potter the good news. After scaring him, of course.

* * *

"You joking?" Blaise asked at dinner that evening. "First years _never_ get on the team."

"I am officially the youngest Seeker in a century." Harry smirked. "Don't spread it around, though. Flint wants it to be a secret."

Draco rolled his eyes. You do not say those words to Blaise Zabini, he'll spread it around in every nick and cranny of the castle. I'll be damned if everyone doesn't know before breakfast tomorrow morning, Draco thought.

After Snape had said the magic words, he, Draco, knew that he'd have to wait another night before people knew about him. The reason he wanted Harry to tell them was because he couldn't hold it in anymore. It was eating him alive. He was happy for Harry, of course, but that also meant another night of Mudbloods and on-the-edge-of-his-seat boredom.

Harry looked at Draco and mouthed, _Tonight_.

_Really? _

_I'll try_.

"What're you two whispering about?" Theo demanded.

"Nothing." Draco thought quickly. "Just amazed that Terrence and Adrian lent us their brooms."

"That's right," Blaise said, shaking his head. "Terrence. I haven't seen anyone more obsessed with his broom. There was..."

Blaise's conversation dragged on and on as normal, or at least the normal of the past week. Grinding his teeth so hard that it hurt, trying hard not to glare at them. At last, the food vanished, they got up and went to the common room.

The green glow seemed to come from the room itself, Draco wondered how far away he should be as Harry and the others sat down near the fire, and Harry nodded at him. Not too close, Theo may hit him. But not too far, Blaise knew some very good curses and had a brilliant aim. He settled on sitting at the table with his Transfiguration book, but ears open.

"I think Draco's gonna be studying for once." Blaise snorted.

"Look, um... I need to tell you something," Harry stumbled.

Draco held his breath. He knew the others would be concerned, then shocked, then angry.

"What's wrong?" Theo asked.

"Draco, actually."

_Gee thanks,_ Draco thought, even though he knew Harry was right.

The entire common room was straining to hear what they were saying about the great Draco Malfoy.

"He wanted me to tell you this." Harry took a nervous breath. "He doesn't... what I'm trying to say is – oh, Merlin. He doesn't believe in Mudbloods anymore."

The silence was so complete that Draco thought he had gone deaf.

* * *

**I really hope it's good. I'm not really sure, the more I write, the less I'm sure of them. **

**Personally, I don't really like this one and hated the last one. But you people like it for some reason I don't know.**


	13. The Truth

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

******This is it!**

******/watch?v=nfcRIUu7AHk**

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE TRUTH**

_Because these things will change  
Can you feel it now?  
These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down  
This revolution, the time will come  
For us to finally win  
- Taylor Swift _"Change"

_Draco, if they don't kill me, I will kill you_, Harry thought angrily. He still was surprised that he had accepted to tell the others. He had no idea what to even say. They went into the common room, Blaise talking as normal, the others probably thinking that Harry was excited because he was on the Quidditch team. They had no idea.

Harry looked at Draco and nodded as he sat down. Draco paled slightly, but turned around and dug a book out from his bag and sat down. The funny thing was that he was reading _Transfiguration for Beginners _upside down, his light hair peaking above.

"I think Draco's gonna be studying for once." Blaise snorted as he sat down.

_Now or never, I guess._

"Look, um... I need to tell you something," Harry stumbled, clutching the edges of his chair harder than necessary.

"What's wrong?" Theo asked.

Harry flinched at the concern in his voice, if Draco's actions spoke the truth, Harry should have written a will beforehand.

"Draco, actually." Harry smiled slightly as he saw the fingers holding the Transfiguration book loosen their grip.

The entire common room was straining to hear what they were saying about Draco Malfoy. When Draco had thrown out the comment about being famous so casually, Harry hadn't expected that he had firsthand experience with it. _Draco, maybe I'll let you live if they're all angry_.

Why did they all have to stare at Harry? It was just like his first day at school, everyone looking at him with a fearful respect.

"He wanted me to tell you this." Harry took a nervous breath, _How does Draco expect me to say this? How can_anyone_ say this? _"He doesn't... what I'm trying to say is – oh, Merlin." Harry put a hand to his palm to his face and closed his eyes, waiting for the atomic bomb. "He doesn't believe in Mudbloods anymore."

Every little sound, every word stopped. Harry took his hand from his face and looked around. It was deathly quiet, and then...

Everything jumped back in motion. Many first, second and third years shrugged it off and returned to whatever they were doing before Harry's announcement. Most of the others sniggered slightly, and looked around for Draco, smirking.

The textbook fell to the floor with a thump and Draco seemed to be blinking away the scene. Colour returned to his face, and those that were looking for him went over to his corner, teased him and said things like, "You look like a sheet." "Calm down" "You just get stranger and stranger, man." The fifth year that said that Harry recognised as Marcus Flint. Marcus even said it smiling and messing up Draco's precious hair. "Blimey, I didn't know you were alright!" The last person shocked him most. Ron had come from his brooding table over to Draco – that was when Harry couldn't see anymore. He remembered that there was some others right in front of him that might be prove to be a bit more pressing issue.

Harry looked back to the others, and Blaise was staring at Harry open-mouthed.

"That's what you two were keeping secret?" he blurted. "You didn't have to worry about _that, _I've know Draco for years, I think I know when he starts going quiet. He was never so dejected or uninterested – he shoves his opinion anywhere and everywhere. That blond Slytherin was hanging out with us was no way the Draco Malfoy I know." Blaise looked at Theo. "I can't speak for him, but I've known for a while, it's fine. Nothing to worry about."

"You can speak for me," Theo piped up.

Harry glanced at Crabbe and Goyle to be polite. They hadn't changed at all. Harry took it that they didn't mind in the slightest.

Harry whipped around in his chair, nearly knocking it over, and saw Draco resurface from the crowd. He was smiling, happy. Probably the first time, Harry had seen his face completely happy and carefree. He came over to the fireplace and looked between Blaise and Theo. "Really?" he finally asked.

Blaise took him, and spun him around to see the crowd. Then he said, "Take it all in."

Draco seemed happier and more confident than Harry had seen him in the compartment, before the deal, before Hermione, before it got so complicated. He was glad that everything was over. It was all over. They had won. Draco smiled and Harry smiled back. And then... then... then...

No. It didn't happen like that.

In that half second before everyone reacted and responded to Harry's words, he'd pictured a dozen scenarios that involved both him and Draco walking away happy and content, the common room amused and happy, and the others acceptant and friendly. But it wasn't meant to be. Destiny hadn't willed it that way. They were meant to act the way they did.

Blaise and Theo weren't happy. The rest of the Slytherins weren't teasing and light. Draco's fears had become reality.

And Harry couldn't even say Draco's fears were overestimated.

As soon as the last words were out of Harry's mouth, he removed his hand from his eyes and ducked as a jet of light zoomed towards him. He could feel heat singe his hair, and the horrible smell of burnt hair wafted over him.

Blaise had his wand out and it was pointed directly at Harry.

"I knew we shouldn't've taken this Gryffindor, lying, Mudblood-loving scum on!" he snarled, aiming carefully at Harry. This time he wouldn't miss. "How _dare _you say that about Draco? We took you in! We showed you the ropes! We—" Blaise was honestly starting to scare Harry, and he thought that if anyone had said they weren't afraid in Harry's position they'd be lying.

"Blaise! Oi, ZABINI!" Harry had never been so happy to hear Draco's voice. It was nervous and weak but confident and full of authority. Harry didn't know how that made sense, but that was how it must have sounded to Blaise; he reacted to it.

He turned on Draco and scowled. "What?" he snapped, irritated at being interrupted.

"Don't. Kill. Harry. Potter."

"Oh, so you're a _fan_ now?" Blaise's voice was dripping with mockery.

"I seem to remember you were too," Draco said coldly, his pale face a mask of cool anger. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

Something clicked.

"Wait!" Blaise stormed over to Harry and grabbed the front of his robes. "What do you mean by 'Draco doesn't believe in Mudbloods'?"

"He meant the truth!" Draco replied before Harry had a chance to, he took a shuddering breath, then said, very clearly, "I... am... a... blood traitor."

The common room gasped.

"Oh, please!" Draco exclaimed. "This isn't a court room drama!"

Blaise went over to Draco again. "I knew there was something wrong with you two," Blaise said, barely audible, but everyone heard. "Holed up, talking in whispers, you never even talked to _me _like that; I thought we were meant to be best friends." A whine started to creep into his voice, but Blaise covered it up with hatred and contemptment.

"We are," Draco interrupted. There was a look in his eyes that Harry knew; he was lying.

"Liar," Blaise accused airily before continuing harshly. "I knew something was wrong when you started to not join in when we talked about Mudbloods, Squibs and blood traitors, but I never dreamed that you might be one yourself!"

To that, Draco could say nothing.

The common room was watching the exchange with an air of disapproval and rude intrigue. Their interest made Harry think this would made good gossip. He didn't dare look away from Draco and Blaise, but he wondered about the girls – maybe Pansy and Daphne would leave them alone.

"I know _I_ can't do anything," Blaise said with an undertone of a threat. Draco must have seen that too, he paled again but didn't say anything. "But your parents can."

"Tattle-tale." Draco smirked. "I'm not scared of them."

"You should be. As for now..."

Blaise aimed the wand at Draco himself, then seemed to consider it. His eyes lit up in a way that worried Harry, and Blaise grinned. He, without taking his eyes off Draco, turned the wand to Harry.

Draco smiled and, completely unfazed, said, "I'm impressed; Rule Number 21."

"Say it," Blaise ordered.

"Rule Number 21: The best way to get to anyone is to threaten what they care about," Draco said smoothly.

"Very good," Blaise approved. "But, you don't believe in that, do you?"

"Oh, some of the Rules I'm not above using." Draco smirked as Blaise's smile wavered. "You always knew I was the best, right?" he said immodestly, but Harry couldn't doubt the honesty in the words.

Right now, this wasn't the Draco that he had known for the past week. It looked like Harry had the answer to his question of where the old Draco went; he didn't go away, he just waited, patient for when he could come back.

Draco casually reached for his wand, and snapped it out as Blaise came closer. They each pointed their wands at each other.

"You gonna kill me, Blaise?" Draco sneered, but there was worry written over his face.

"What about you?"

No answer

"Well, you can't kill me," Blaise continued. "Your parents and mine are going to kill you and you know it."

"Are you going to kill me?" Draco asked curtly again.

"I'm not going to, but I am going to try and teach you a lesson and _you_—" He pointed his wand at Harry, before returning it to Draco "—need to learn this lesson: if someone you know has changed, it's your duty to who they were before to turn them in."

Blaise backed off, but kept his wand in a very tense hand. Draco smoothed down his robes and kept his wand out too. Everyone could feel the air of a fight.

"Rule Number 193." Draco rolled his eyes. "Some of these Rules are wrong, a fair few of them are right, but a lot aren't. You have to learn to think for yourself, Blaise. You can't let your parents rule your life."

"I don't _have _to do anything, and I'm perfectly fine listening to my parents. You, on the other hand, are not."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Rule Number 1; the most important one. Let's see if you know this one." Blaise smirked as Draco went whiter than he ever had before.

"Rule Number 1—" he whispered.

"Louder," Blaise ordered.

Draco threw Blaise a look of utmost hatred that made him back up. "Rule Number 1: There is no use for a pureblood son whom does not know his place," Draco said evenly.

The crowd was sniggering at Draco's humiliation, but hanging on every word, watching the cool argument as one would a tennis match.

Harry felt a chill run up and down his spine. If anything, Draco telling that he was going to be disowned and ect ect, was an understatement. If that "nothing" was what Harry thought it was the Dursleys would be better for the both of them. He got up and was going to pull Draco away before he exploded, but... too late.

"But I don't care!" Draco shoved Harry away, then calmed slightly and lowered his voice until only Blaise and Harry could hear him. "I don't care about any of _those_ Rules. This pureblood beliefs are just... just propaganda, Blaise. This is the one and only chance I am going to give you. You're a good friend, but if you can't accept this... then it's over. Are you gonna keep walking away? If so, we can forget our time together and I'll see you on the other side."

Blaise thought about it for a second. "You don't want me to be your enemy, Malfoy."

If Draco was hurt by being referred to by his surname, he didn't show it. On the contrary, he smiled. It took a minute for Harry to know why.

"I figured that out for myself, funnily enough."

"When you do see me," Blaise started dangerously, "I _will_ be on the winning side. After all, wizards like the Dark Lord don't die; they wait for the time to return."

Draco's smile turned into an amused smirk.

"When he comes back, I'll be ready for him," Draco said louder and confidently, and brushed by Blaise.

Harry followed, not looking behind at those still in the common room.

They had been walking through the tunnels and stone halls of the dungeons for a time in angry silence before Draco said painfully, "Was I like... that?"

"The reason I took the deal was to try and make you, um, unlike that."

They stormed around the tunnels and passageways a bit slower before Draco stopped abruptly.

"There's no way back, is there?" Draco asked sadly.

That was when it hit Harry. He hadn't realized how important Blaise and Theo were to Draco. They were his best and only friends. Crabbe and Goyle were nothing, Harry couldn't count the times that Draco had said that, and the girls were annoying and antagonizing towards him. Blaise and Theo had known Draco for years before Harry had known about the wizarding world (although that wasn't that long ago) and had only met Harry a handful of weeks ago, and he had chosen Harry over his lifetime friends.

"Is there?" Draco repeated softer.

Harry knew then just how dangerous the wizarding world was. How strong the beliefs could be in some, even kids, and then cause people to turn on anyone who was different. It was probably much, much worse outside of school, for a flashing second Harry could quite clearly see a battle field. Wands flashing, incantations yelled, and hate and contemptment on each and every face for the other side. People who simply didn't think their way.

"No, Draco, there isn't." Harry sighed heavily, seeing Blaise's anger in his mind. "But, you never know, things can change."

Harry knew it wouldn't and, by the look Draco gave him, he didn't either. A thousand questions were burning, but Harry held his tongue. Any of the answers would just make him feel worse.

"I'm sorry," Draco said suddenly, as they started walking again.

_Hold up! What?_

"Why?" Harry asked, shocked.

"With everything that's happened I didn't remember to apologize for being such an idiot." Draco smiled bitterly. "You remember? What am I thinking? _Of course_ you remember. I was an idiot, probably excruciatingly annoying, and I'm sorry."

"That's fine." Harry dismissed the apology. "The only thing that matters is that you aren't anymore."

After they had paced around the quiet passageways, and had come to the stairs that lead to the Entrance Hall, they stopped and looked at the archway. They looked at each other, but it wasn't a question. They both went up the stairs.

Harry was pretty sure that after Draco's dramatic exit, he had too much pride to walk back in. And he didn't think that Draco should be left alone tonight of all nights.

They went up the stairs and after they passed the third floor, they ran into Hermione carrying a large stack of books.

"What are _you_ _two_ doing here?" Hermione asked, insultingly surprised.

_That's a very good question_.

Harry looked at Draco who said, "Getting away."

"Oh, Merlin! It isn't that girl again, is it?"

"No." Draco looked at the floor, embarrassed. "Other Slytherins."

Hermione blinked. "Why?"

"Difference in..."

"... beliefs," Harry finished firmly for Draco.

**Few things I should explain I think...**

**1: The Rules. They're what Draco's, Blaise's, Theo's and Crabbe's and Goyle's parents taught them as little ones. The pureblood beliefs and manipulation and ect. When Draco says "You knew I was always the best" he's referring to the Rules and that he learned them fastest and was prepared to use them always.**

**2: The misleading... thing. Okay, I read this book once where they did this, it showed the good ending where the character survived and then the "real" ending where he died. It was much crueler in this book, but I still like the effect. And I wanted to write that.**


	14. The Damage is Done

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

******This might be a bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted/needed to have the... in here.**

**/watch?v=KdIUzBoowbQ**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE DAMAGE IS DONE**

_I'm starting with the man in the mirror  
__I'm asking him to change his ways  
__And no message could have been any clearer  
__If you wanna make the world a better place  
__Take a look at yourself, and then make a change  
__- Michael Jackson _"The Man in the Mirror"

Draco was cold. He was beyond cold. He was freezing. Frigid. Icy. Frosty. He didn't know any other words, but he was cold and empty and, above all, sad. He hated to leave Blaise and the others behind; they'd been best friends for years. They'd learned the Rules together. They'd kept each other in line and made sure that not one of them went too far, that they didn't do anything risky or drastic that could damage their name. They'd looked after each other and killed time together. Draco glanced at Harry. Those years that Draco had spent with the others were eclipsed by what Harry had done and were willing to still do for him. He was ready to abandon his friends with Draco, he was ready to accept him for what no one else possibly could.

Blood traitor.

The words didn't make him shudder, but they made him miserable. And angry. Not at the others, Draco saw that their parents had taught them all they knew – even now, there was a little voice in Draco's mind lecturing him and ignoring and scorning him – but at his parents. They had told the others all that he knew, or thought he knew, and hadn't prepared him for... for anything, really. Just being a proper pureblood, not something like _this_.

_Because they didn't think you'd every disgrace them like this_, the little voice whispered.

_Shut up,_ Draco snapped.

All Draco wanted to do was to get away from _them_. As far away as he could get while still being in the castle. That meant going up, straight up. Draco squinted up the dark staircase and swore that Hermione was up there. The little Gryffindor was carrying a stack of books that obscured her face, although not her bushy hair.

"What are _you_ _two_ doing here?" she asked, with insulting surprise in her voice.

Draco could feel Harry's eyes on him, but he knew why. "Getting away."

"Oh, Merlin! It isn't that girl again, is it?"

"No." Draco half smiled, then the seriousness of the night overwhelmed him and he looked at the ground, tears coming to his eyes as he said his next words. "Other Slytherins."

"Why?"

Draco looked back up at her. The answer to that was more complicated than any Mudblood could possibly understand, they weren't brought up like he was. There was no easy way to say it, but he tried anyway.

"Difference in..." Words failed him.

"... beliefs," Harry finished firmly for Draco.

Hermione smiled at Harry, and Draco swore he saw sparks, like they were talking without words.

"Okay, hello?" Draco called, waving a hand between them. "Harry, you in there?"

"You two should probably be getting back to the dungeons," Hermione reasoned after several awkward moments.

"No." Draco shook his head. "I-I can't, not tonight, at least."

He didn't care if he had no sleep that night, he didn't even care if he was sent to Dumbledore's office. All Draco wanted was to forget what had happened. That he had threatened Blaise, severed ties with the Slytherins, and been publically humiliated. He couldn't face them now, he knew that he couldn't run from them forever.

He kept going up the stairs, and knew Harry was behind him. As they reached the next floor's landing, Draco motioned for Harry to stop. He had heard another set of footsteps. More seconds passed and the footsteps grew louder, closer. Draco cautiously looked over the railing and saw someone in the dim light climbing the stairs not that far behind them. They reached the next floor and Draco knew who it was.

"Blaise," he said quietly.

He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along. This was it, they were going to get caught. Draco's imagination ran for a second before he managed to shut it up. He wondered why Blaise was looking for them. Draco was doubtful that he was willing to forgive and forget.

They didn't stop until they were on the seventh floor. They hid behind a column, hardly daring to breathe, and waited. It was the longest two and a half minutes of Draco's life. Every second he was sure that he was going to be cursed. Every breath sounded as loud as a foghorn. Every heart beat seemed to rumble the floor. Every footstep sounded like it was right beside them.

Eventually, Blaise said, "I'll be writing to your parents now, Draco." and walked off.

Draco and Harry didn't dare to move. Mother and Father were going to find out. He was going to leave. This was it. Everything had changed, there was no way back. Mother and Father would _not_ be happy, they would _not_ take him back, or they would try and change him. Not any of those things were appealing. Draco's panicked thoughts threatened to overtake him and force him to show his emotions.

"Showing emotions is a sign of weakness," Draco whispered as tears were in danger of falling.

This was _so_ not good.

He couldn't go back to the dungeons, but where else could he go? Flitch would find him soon. To their right, Draco spotted a door. Carefully, almost paranoid, he moved over to the door and opened it. Normally Draco wouldn't be so interested in a door, but he needed to be somewhere. And he was a long way from normal.

He twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. It looked like a disused classroom. There were desks pushed against the wall and in the center was a grand golden mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling. He walked in nervously and looked at the mirror.

There was some sort of engraving at the top. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _None of the words Draco knew the meaning of, but the first one looked familiar somehow. He tore his eyes from the engraving and looked into the mirror, maybe he could fix himself up and try to return to bed. Even though Draco was a good liar, even he couldn't lie to himself.

The image in the mirror almost made him send a curse towards it. It was impossible. Simply impossible. It was Blaise, Harry, Theo and Draco together and smiling. Nothing was wrong, nothing had changed. It was the way things weren't meant to be. But the way he wished things to be.

What the hell kind of mirror was this?

He focused on the inscription, maybe he could find out what "erised" meant. The other words were hopeless, the first one Draco knew he had seen somewhere!

He saw Harry move towards the mirror with a shocked and desperate sort of expression on his face, mingled with something Draco didn't have a name for. He moved out of the frame of the mirror, and his friends disappeared.

Then it hit him. Erised was desire spelt backwards. So the translation was... _ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire_?

Draco backed up to the desks and stuck his hands in his pockets. He found a galleon and a few sickles, a pen that Mother had given him and a piece of parchment. He studied the pen, trying to remember what Mother had said about it. Her voice drifted over him..."Muggles use these easy tools; they're so lazy that they can't bother..." he shut it off and uncapped the pen.

He wrote down, _ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire_ and let his eyes unfocus, looking without seeing. Didn't work. He crossed that out and took out the spaces. After a few seconds words started to jump out. When Draco saw the real translation, he looked back at Harry wondering what he was seeing.

He moved back to the Mirror and took a good look at Harry's face. He knew the expression on his face now, and was jealous. It was love. Whatever he was seeing, it made him feel love. Maybe having Mother and Father throw me out won't be so bad if I'd find love somewhere. But Draco knew that he would rather be miserable and well kept than happy and... not well kept.

Draco looked at the Mirror and saw the image of him and his friends happy and the entire ordeal forgotten. Impossible. Something like this would never be forgotten. He pressed his eyes tightly closed and felt something trace down his face. He put his finger to the trail and it pulled back wet. That was when it hit him. He was leaving his family, friends, beliefs, values, his _life _behind. His whole world and he was almost alone in this new one.

He slid down against the wall, and he didn't know how long he stayed there, and just let his tears flow freely. When Harry asked him what was wrong, Draco raised an eyebrow and said, "What do you think?" not harshly or sadly, just curiously.

Harry nodded and said, "What do you want to do?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me." For the first time in his life, Draco didn't take charge or control of something. "You can stay here and look into your heart's desire if you want. That's what the inscription means," he added when Harry opened his mouth to say something. "What do you see, anyway?"

Harry looked awkward. He glanced at the Mirror and then back at Draco. "My family. My parents, grandparents. The Potters."

At first, Draco thought he was going to laugh, but it made sense. Harry had never known his parents or wizarding family. It was kind of sad.

"Ahh." Was the only thing Draco could say.

"You? What do you see?" Harry asked, sitting beside him.

"You, Blaise, Theo and myself just normal. Before everything happened. It's a bit ironic; I came to make friends with you to change you, but it ended up going the other way around." Draco let out a bitter laugh and wiped his tears.

"That's for sure," Harry said, sounding like he was trying to restrain laughter.

The two boys sat in the unused classroom, not knowing what they had stumbled upon, just hoping that everything would turn out okay.

Blaise left the quill in his inkwell. He was biting his lower lip, he didn't want to do this, but he had to. It was just his duty to the old Draco, he would've wanted to be turned in, even if the new one didn't want to. He reread the letter for the final time and thought it was perfect.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,  
I am saddened to inform you that your son has changed sides and has dropped his morals and beliefs. I am deeply sorry for this loss and hope that you can overcome it. I know that one does not make such a profound statement without proof. Harry Potter, Draco's closest friend, confronted me for him and I handled the situation accordingly. However, Draco refused to change sides under threat, persuasion, guilt or any other means.  
Sincerely,  
Blaise Zabini

He had gotten Terrence to help him write it and make it sound better and Theo to handwrite it perfectly. You don't mess around with this type of thing. Blaise wondered if it was too late to send it to them, and decided that the letter couldn't wait.

He went to the Owlery and called down Pheircer, his owl. He tied the letter to Pheice's leg and sent him off. Blaise stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked stiffly back to the dungeons. The damage was done and Blaise had just sent out the cleanup crew to take out the trash.


	15. A Plan & Pansy Again?

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

******I'm sorry for taking so long AGAIN! But w/school, friends, bitchiness... too much crap in my life for me to write every single night.  
Enjoy, and I might have another one next week.**

**/watch?v=crXfgVWE5ss**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A PLAN & PANSY... AGAIN?**

_Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking  
__When you fall everyone stands  
__Another day and you've had your fill of sinking  
__With the life held in your  
__Hands are shaking cold  
__These hands are meant to hold  
__  
Speak to me  
__When all you got to keep is strong  
__Move along, move along like I know you do  
__And even when your hope is gone  
__Move along, move along just to make it through  
__Move along  
- All American Rejects _"Move Along"

"Cissy?" Lucius asked over breakfast the following morning. "You might want to read this."

She leaned over the table and took the letter from her husband. After reading the first line she ordered, "Dobby, out!"

The little elf bowed his head and started to finish drying the dishes, hurrying.

"You fool!" Lucius shouted. "Your mistress told you to get out, now get out!"

It did a formal bow, but before it got out, Lucius grabbed it by its collar and threw it out the door. He waved his wand and the door glowed orange for a moment before fading back to wood brown.

Lucius then did something that neither his brothers nor his wife had ever seen him do: he paced, running a hand through his long hair.

Narcissa read every word to the letter, and each syllable she could hardly believe. After what felt like an eternity she said quietly, in case the elf was listening, "What should we do?" When Lucius didn't answer, she continued. "We can't blame Blaise, he did all he could do."

"What about Draco?" Lucius spat out his son's name in a way that unnerved Narcissa. She was brought up as a Black, told what she should do, but she found out, it's much easier to talk the talk.

"Maybe it's Potter," she threw out. "Maybe he filled Draco's head with... ideas."

"Maybe," he allowed. "But he still chose to change that way, even if it wasn't his fault he's still weak."

Narcissa felt a shiver pass through her. She knew what Lucius was thinking. He still thought that the Dark side would rise again, and that a new Death Eaters would be formed. And he wanted Draco to join. She wasn't going to stand for it.

"He isn't going to join." She enunciated slowly, to make sure he didn't misunderstand her. There was too much beating around the bush with this problem.

"We won't have a choice, dear." Lucius sat down in front of her and took her hands in his. "If it comes to power again, it's death or service. And I am _not _going to let you or Draco die because of me. I'm not. But that won't matter if he outright decides to not join. I won't force him."

"Then we die," Narcissa pointed out.

"No, then I join and convince them that Draco is no longer..."

"No longer what?" she snapped. "No longer a part of this family? No longer important? No longer your son?"

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"You said what you meant, Lucius. You always did. To me, at least," she tacked on at the end.

"I'm not lying, but we—"

"I don't want to hear it!" She held her hands up in surrender. "But we have to decide about Draco for now, not the future."

Lucius froze in place, something moving in his grey eyes.

"I think I might know something," he said cagily.

"Say it."

He stood up and walked away. Narcissa followed. They wove throughout the house until they came to his study. He went into his desk and tapped it smartly with his wand four times, muttering some spell. He opened the top drawer, nothing. The bottom drawer, nothing. Narcissa was confused. Normally both drawers were full with his things. The middle drawer he opened and... nothing.

He pulled with his finger tips at something and he took out a long piece of wood that Narcissa realized was a false bottom. He looked into the final drawer sadly, then took out a book.

She frowned. She had never seen that book before, that wasn't unusual, but the book itself she could _feel_. There was a strong magic around it. It had a black leather cover and golden corners, with a name in the corner that she couldn't read.

"I've never showed you this?" Lucius asked curiously.

Narcissa shook her head.

He flipped through the blank pages absentmindedly while he talked. "This is a very special book. The Dark Lord gave it to my a week before he died – he never told me what it was, but he did say that it was extremely important and could help open the Chamber of Secrets."

And he started to tell her of his plan.

When he was finished, Narcissa didn't like it. She didn't like it at all, but she was willing to do anything and everything to get Draco back.

Draco's next day was hell.

That wasn't even an exaggeration.

The Slytherins (except Harry) glared at him openly, smirking and sneering as he passed. Often making mocking comments that made him remember the last night he had been among them.

The Gryffindors looked at him with confusion written all over their faces. The only one who didn't was Hermione, who smiled nervously when she saw him. A few other lions glared at him, thinking that he'd done something unspeakable or horrible. To an extent, they were right.

The Ravenclaws didn't treat him much different, often looking his way curiously. As if to say _Why are your houemates treating you with hatred? _Draco doubted any of their guesses were right.

Hufflepuffs seemed to be immune to gossip, or just followed the Slytherins. They tried to glare at him discreetly, or treat him curtly if they had to interact.

He had gone from having great friends and many admirers to having two friends and hundreds of enemies. He had found even better friends in Hermione and Harry than he had ever prayed to hope for. It appeared that hate drew true friends to you.

She would often help with homework and would tell off a few Slytherins, being called a Mudblood in retaliation. Draco couldn't do anything about _that_ however; she was one. Harry had stronger enemies with every Slytherin than Draco had ever dreamed to do. They all shot curses and jinxes at Harry. Luckily, Hermione taught him _Protago_to block them.

He focussed on his schoolwork, almost passing Hermione in many subjects, trying to block out reality. Hoping that he'd wake up every morning only to realize it was all a dream.

It never was.

A few days later, Draco's eagle came down, a letter tied to its leg. He knew what it was before he saw it. From home.

Draco untied it with shaking fingers. It wasn't red – not a Howler, thank Merlin. It looked just like any other letter, but it didn't have _Draco Malfoy _at the top, just _Draco_. That worried him, but he opened the letter, Harry sitting beside him, looking at the letter apprehensively, as if it would explode.

Draco scanned the letter quickly and handed it to Harry.

_Dear Draco,  
I'm sorry it took so long to respond, but your father has been busy at work. I am disappointed in you, Draco, I thought we had taught you better than that.  
Lucius doesn't want me to tell you this, but I think you have a right to know. As long as the other side is in power and the Dark side is dormant, we are safe. If _they_ come back to power, we will have two options: die or join. Lucius joining won't be enough, it has to be you too, or else they would become suspicious.  
We won't force you, we never would, but then we would have to disconnect completely with you – sever all ties and make it as if you no longer mean anything to us.  
We wish you to stay for Christmas, even in light of recent events,  
Love,  
Mother_

"That's great!" Harry exploded, dropping the letter in excitement. He stopped when he saw Draco's face.

Oh, Draco thought. I suppose I look like _that _again.

"What's wrong? Voldemort's dead, the Dark side's gonna stay dead."

Draco laughed without humour. "Someone is going to take control of it and then it will be the Dark Lord all over again! There. Will. Be. Another. Dark. Lord. I won't have much of a choice when the time comes."

"You going home for Christmas?" Harry asked after several sombre moments.

"I doubt it." Draco snorted. "I don't want to see them for a _long_ time, and that's what they want me to do."

Harry's blank look prompted Draco to continue.

"They want me to come home so that Mother can give me the full speech about how I'm a 'disappointment' and 'disgrace to the Malfoy name'." Draco air quoted. "I'm not gonna hear that, Aunt Bella's going to be horrible. I think it was her cousin that switched." He strained his memory, what _was _the bloke's name?

"Fine," Harry sighed. "Let's go."

Draco blinked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just 'cause you're not well liked—"

As if on cue, Pansy came running.

"MALFOY!"

"Did she _just_ find out?" Harry wondered aloud.

I doubt it, Draco thought. She just wants to embarrass me some more. Haven't I been punished enough?

"See you later." Draco got up and ran just as he always used to.

"Quidditch later!" He heard Harry yell behind him.

Draco barely got out of the Great Hall before he ran into Hermione.

"It's Pansy." He looked nervously behind him.

Sure enough...

"MALFOY!"

But Hermione had already started pulling him somewhere.

A second later, the Entrance Hall was empty, but if Pansy had looked close enough she would've noticed that the broom cupboard's door was closing silently.

"Why do you like to shove me in broom closets?" Draco whispered, shoving a broom out of the way.

"You had a better idea?" she whispered angrily, sitting on a bucket.

He heard Pansy's footsteps pass and he breathed a sigh a relief.

He felt Hermione turn around in the dark and he heard her turning the knob. He expected light to flood in. Any second now. C'mon, Hermione.

No light, no nothing.

"Can't you open it?" Draco said normally.

After a long moment. "No."

"I guess I won't see you at the game, Draco!" he heard a familiar voice float through the door. Then laughter rang out, a laughter similar to Draco's own, but not somehow. Then it struck him why this laugh was familiar; it was almost what Draco would do when he "put filth in their place."

"Oh, crap! Damn you, Blaise! Damn! You!"

Blaise's laughter faded out as he went to the Quidditch Stadium.

**Sorry to anyone who thinks that Blaise is still good/confused and wants to do the right thing.**

**Just let this simmer, it _has _to simmer...**


	16. The Golden Quartet

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter

**/watch?v=6aGXWE20Vlg**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE GOLDEN QUARTET**

_I can still remember  
The words and what they meant  
As we etched them with our fingers  
In years of wet cement  
The days blurred into each other  
Though everything seemed clear  
We cruised along at half speed  
But then we shifted gears  
We ran like vampires from a thousand burning suns  
But even then we should have stayed  
But we ran away  
Now all my friends are gone  
Maybe we've outgrown all the things that we once loved  
Runaway  
But what are we running from?  
A show of hands from those in this audience of one  
Where have they gone?_

_- Rise Against _"Audience of One"

Harry was mounting his broom, half scared that they would lose and half scared of his team. They hadn't stopped glaring at him, like always, but now it was different, Harry couldn't explain it. There was this resigned look in their eyes, but Harry doubted that it was for Draco's change.

He pushed his thoughts away as they marched into the warm September sun. He scanned the stands, but couldn't see Hermione or Draco – aw, well, you couldn't see much from the ground anyways. He watched as Marcus and the Gryffindor captain (Wood, his Quidditch robes said) shook hands and retreated to their positions.

"Now, I want a nice, clean game," Madam Hooch said, looking at each and every player, but her eyes lingered on the Slytherin team, "from all of you."

She kicked open the trunk and the bludgers and Snitch escaped. Harry stared at the Snitch, not wanting to lose it.

"The bludgers are released, followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the Seeker that catches the Snitch wins the game." Harry didn't take his eyes off the little gold ball, he knew that the commentator was some third year called Lee Jordon.

Madam Hooch took the Quaffle and tossed it high. Everything began moving very quickly. The Chasers dove in and out and around each other for the red ball. The Beaters zoomed everywhere, ready for the zooming black balls, holding their bats high. The Keepers looked alert and kept their eyes trained on the Chasers, Wood was circling the hoops hawk-like.

Harry flew around, going high, low, just moving. Hoping to spot the Snitch and dive before the other Seeker did. Marcus had told him to just watch the other Seeker; if he moves suddenly, follow him, tail him and make sure you get there first, and make sure that the other Seeker sees you moving, keeping busy so he doesn't get suspicious.

"Ten-zero, Slytherin!" Lee Jordon called out.

Harry clapped from his position and continued to zoom around the stadium, trying to hurry and catch the Snitch. And, in spite of everything, he smiled.

"Draco?" Hermione asked steadily. "Who was that?"

"Zabini," Draco hissed, surprised that his old friend's last name sprung to him before his first name. "He doesn't like much me anymore. We used to be best mates." By the end, he was whispering, but Hermione still heard in the small closet, she also heard the pain in Draco's voice. "What do we do?" he asked to fill the silence.

"You have your wand with you?" Hermione asked, looking at the doorknob in a new way.

"Yeah." Draco never left the dorm without it. He was thinking about whether that was wrong when he handed it to Hermione. Yeah, it was.

"Lumos! Draco? What is it?" she said, turning to face him.

He blinked at the sudden light. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair," he replied.

"Alohamora," she said, pointing the wand at the lock. Draco was annoyed with himself for forgetting that one; he remembered Mother teaching it (as long as a dozen others) to him before school started.

Hermione stood up and pulled the door. Nothing.

"It must be magically locked," Draco said as Hermione frowned at the wand.

She looked at him, bemused. "You knew that one?"

He shrugged.

"It could have been the wand." Hermione said, still inspecting it, trying to measure it with her fingers.

"There's nothing wrong with my wand," he said stiffly.

"It _could_—" Hermione wheedled.

"No," Draco said flatly. "What's yours?"

"Vine and dragon heartstring. 10 ¾ inches. Yours is longer." Hermione finished her measurements and said, "About an inch longer."

Draco rolled his eyes. Maybe this was why he thought Mudbloods were ignorant. "Length doesn't matter," he said impatiently. "It's the wood and core that counts. Vine and hawthorn wood are very similar in properties; both for Transfiguration. Then dragon users can also have unicorn—"

"Alright! I get it!" Hermione interrupted angrily.

"Who's that?"

Hermione and Draco turned around, nearly falling over each other in the process, their legs getting tangled.

"Who's in there?" another voice asked.

"Little lovers arguing angrily?" the first voice asked.

They looked at each other nervously.

"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger!" Draco shouted back.

"Open the door," Hermione added.

The door opened and sunlight flooded in, revealing a certain trio.

"Thanks," Draco said quickly and tried to bypass them, but the taller one grabbed him by his shoulders and said, "Not so fast, little buddy."

"What's your problem, blood—" Draco stopped himself before he said something he'd regret.

"What did you say?" the shortest one demanded as the one that was holding Draco lifted him off his feet so that they were eye-level.

Damn! He had never wanted his wand so badly before. Maybe some wandless magic would work.

"Let him down," Hermione shouted.

"Who're you?" Ron asked.

"Hermione Granger. Who're these two?"

The second tallest said, "Fred and George Weasely, pranksters extraordinaire," without taking his eyes off Draco.

The names triggered something, besides their surnames. Draco thought that Marcus might've mentioned them before to Terrance.

"You're the Gyrifs' beaters," Draco said, surprised. "There's a game going on, you know."

"Detention from Snape," one of them said.

"Look, mate, let me down." Draco tried to reason, as he struggled, "You don't know who I am."

One of the twins was annoyed. "I was going to ask when you started to run off. Then you were gonna say something..." he prompted.

Draco shook his head furiously, then stopped struggling when he saw that it would do no good. "If you knew why I was about to say what I was going to, you'd understand."

"Just say it," Fred said.

"Finish the insult," George added.

"Let him down!" Hermione repeated, pulling Draco's wand.

"Should we let them go, George?"

"No I don't think so, Fred. Only if Malfoy finishes his insult; I'd like to hear it." George gave a little shake to emphasise his words.

"I was going to say 'What's your problem?'" Draco tried.

"Nu-uh. You were gonna say something else."

"I'm not going to say it." He looked into the twin's eyes and said with as much conviction as he could, "You must have heard about me, and it's true. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Insult. You. Like. That." He emphasised each word carefully, hoping that if these Gryffindors believed him, the others could think that he was okay.

Slowly, the Weasely smiled and dropped him.

"Huh, you were right, Ron," George said.

"The little Malfoy actually isn't a pure blooded prat," Fred finished.

Draco scrambled to his feet and brushed off his robes, looked at the redheads in dislike.

"They make it their mission to find and prove, or disprove, every rumour in this school," Ron explained. "You were kinda important – they haven't had a rumour this big in a long time."

"Two years," Fred said.

"It's been a while," George said.

"And we like to know what goes on—"

"In this wondrous, ancient school of magic."

"So we figured we just had to get you angry enough and then—"

"You'd do what you'd do, and that would be this case solved," George concluded.

"And you passed for prejudiced purged," Fred said brightly.

"Our work here is done."

Draco was glad when they started to walk away; their finishing each other's sentences was giving him a headache.

One of them turned back and said, "Oh, and don't go in there and close the door without having someone else to open it." He pointed to the broom closet. "A year or two back, a lot of the upper years would snog in there and now Filch put the charm on it to keep us out. If you and your girlfriend wanna find a place, a deserted dorm or corridor or even the common room if you're feeling adventurous—"

"Whoa! Back up," Draco said, realizing what the twins were implying. "Hermione isn't my girlfriend."

"And we weren't snogging," she added, turning red.

The twins rolled their eyes identically. "Suuuuuure, you weren't," they chorused and left.

Draco and Hermione turned to Ron. Draco nodded his head to Hermione, who took the hint and left them alone.

They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds that seemed to last forever before Draco said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I owed you."

Ron blinked. "Blimey, you _have_ changed."

Draco chuckled, but he was still a bit sad from the way his life had changed so dramatically that it was quiet and short. "Yeah, I have. I'm sorry that I, and Harry, insulted you. Neither of us meant it."

Ron smirked, it looked strangely like Draco's own. "You didn't mean it? You told me to go to hell with the rest of the blood traitors and filth that dirtied up your pure air."

Draco flinched, remembering that. "At the time I meant it. Now... now I'm just realizing how much I've done that isn't really right, you know?"

Ron looked at him like he was insane. He was probably right.

Draco smiled bitterly. "Listen to me, I've been through hell, and no one should be there."

He turned away and walked away with his head held high, even though he had just thrown away what was left of his dignity. He had only one question on his mind: Who won? It was answered as soon as he went outside. A huge parade of Slytherins came in, cheering like there was no tomorrow. Draco grinned.

"DRACO!"

He turned for the voice and heard Harry being tossed through the castle, but in happiness, celebration.

"I NEARLY SWALLOWED IT!"

Draco shook his head in amazement. That Harry.

**I just realized how long this story is gonna be... OH MY GOD!**


	17. Halloween

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'll try to hurry. I've got a few more chapters but they'll come over the next weeks. This, I think, is gonna be one of those 200, 000 word things so if you like it you gotta stay committed it it. One question: anyone use the youtube links I provide?

/watch?v=Tp3U4XrH3j8

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HALLOWEEN**

_So don't look back on yesterday  
Wanna scream out  
__No more hiding  
__Don't be afraid of what's inside  
__Gonna tell ya you'll be alright  
__In the aftermath  
__Anytime anybody pulls you down  
__Anytime anybody says you're not allowed  
__Just remember you are not alone  
__In the aftermath_

_- Adam Lambert_ "Aftermath"

The rest of the school seemed to like Draco and Harry more, at least as much as they ever would. The Gryffindors shot them dirty looks, like they did to the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had returned to their neutral state; not hating, not liking, not taking sides, just letting the lions and snakes fight it out like they always had.

The Gryffindors were a little surprised as Draco's new views. A few, though, smiled a bit or talked to him. Most of the others hated him because he was friends with Harry Potter, Slytherin star Seeker. Hermione had talked to a few other Gryffindors and the opinion that Draco wasn't evil, mad or pulling a prank was spreading through the younger years. Some older kids who knew the Malfoys were still suspicious but younger brother and sisters and friends convinced them or at least swayed them a bit.

And the rest of the Slytherins? Well, they appreciated the fact that Harry had turned into their star Seeker—winning another game—and that with him it was going to be impossible to lose the Cup. But they didn't like the fact that Draco was still the new and improved Draco: doing what he wanted to, not actively looking out for arguments about Mudbloods, but not contributing to the conversations. Harry had established, a little after the Quidditch game, that if Draco wasn't treated better, he might "accidentally forget" to catch the Snitch next time. The Slytherins' vanity and competiveness won out; Draco was tolerated, but he would never have the power of his social position back or his ex-friends' respect. Blaise had become the god-awful bully to Harry and Draco Harry had a feeling Draco _should've_ been.

Ron hadn't fully forgiven them, but he didn't hate them any longer. He wasn't their friend, but he wasn't one of the decreasingly few that outwardly looked at them with rage and disgust. Hermione had taken over from Harry, having the last few heart-to-hearts that Draco hated more than Blaise. Draco had regained his last confidence with others, learning to not care if they were prejudice or not, having the same coolness and arrogance he had before The Switch.

"Hermione?"

She turned at the voice, expecting Draco or Harry or even Ron behind her, but the voice was too nervous to be either of them and anyways, they ate their meals at their Slytherin table.

It was Lavender. Hermione didn't particularly like the girl, but she could handle her. After all, both girls had to sleep in the same dorm.

"Yeah?"

Lavender sat down beside Hermione and pulled some pumpkin juice towards her. "You've been spending a lot of time with Malfoy."

She didn't say it as a question, but Hermione answered cautiously, instantly suspicious. "Yes." She noticed a few of the gossip hounds behind Lavender.

"And Potter," Lavender added.

"So? They're friends. You spend a lot of time with the twins." Hermione pointed at Parvati and Padma Patil. Even though Padma was a Ravenclaw, the twins were inseparable and since Lavender was friends with one she was, by default, friends with both.

Hermione expected one of the remarks that she was sure people said behind her back and every now and then to her face. "What friends?" Most didn't see her as the type to have friends.

Lavender snorted. "Friends, yeah, right." She adopted a sweetly innocent tone that Hermione didn't trust. "Tell me, how's Draco doing?"

"Spit it out," Hermione said sharply, ignoring the question. "Just say what you want to."

"Are you interested in either of them?" she said bluntly, put out at having her game ended. She tossed her curly blonde hair from her blue eyes, which flashed angrily at her.

Hermione wished that it was morning, so that the mail could interrupt them. But it was the Halloween Feast, and the only interruption would be Dumbledore's speech, which was already over. Well, the other interruption could be Draco, Harry or Ron coming around to say hello but that could be disastrous.

Lavender looked as if Christmas came early, her face lighting up evilly. "You do," she said, taking Hermione's silence as confirmation.

"No, I don't. Aren't we too young to be 'interested' in people?" Hermione suddenly wanted to turn back time, to take back what she said.

"'Too young?'" Lavender repeated in disbelief. "'Too young?' Hermione, girl, you have to start somewhere, and we starting here."

"I'm not _interested_ in either of them, and don't _like_ anyone or will for a long time."

"What do you do with all that time you spend with Draco and Harry, hmmm? Quidditch, homework?" Lavender asked with the air of a curious best friend even though they both hated each other. Hermione at least, thought Lavender was shallow and silly and she was proving that with each second. But somehow she made Hermione, the smartest witch in their year, feel stupid.

Hermione shrugged. Draco had made Hermione promise to not say anything to anyone about what they talked about. "We're friends; hang out or we just talk."

"About?"

"None of your business," Hermione replied coldly.

Lavender dropped whatever politeness that she had. "I was just wondering. _Everyone's _talking about you two: Malfoy and you."

"Why do you care?" Hermione snapped, stabbing her mashed potatoes, an action that didn't go unnoticed.

Lavender smiled a smile that reminded Hermione of a lion before it kills a mouse. "Why are you being so defensive if you don't like him?"

"Because you're being stupid and immature and idiotic," Hermione snapped again, standing up.

"Where're you going?"

Hermione walked from the Great Hall in a huff, irritated and annoyed. Why does Lavender have to be so childish? It was stupid. She wasn't "interested" in Draco, he was a friend, and she was way too young for boys. Her mom said that she should be at least fourteen before she started and Hermione agreed completely.

What was everyone's problem? Draco was having an issue and Hermione was helping him. That's what friends do. The entire school knew about his problem so why were they so—so _touchy_ about it?

Hermione ended up near the bathroom. She pushed the door and stepped inside. She couldn't handle the others now, not like this. She would clean up, then go back.

An uncomfortable thought drifted through her mind; what if Draco was interested in her? What if he was only spending all this time with her because he thought that she was interested him? What if he was already in that world? The teenage one of boy- and girl-friends. What if Harry was only friends with her because he wanted to get back at Draco for being a prat in early September? What if _Harry_ liked her? What if she didn't have any friends, only admirers?

Why _would_ they, though? What could they possibly see in her? She wasn't pretty, she wasn't charming, she didn't even know her way around the world well enough to navigate anything besides a book.

Maybe no one wanted to be friends with Hermione Granger. Maybe she was too smart, too bossy, too intimidating. Maybe her "friends" weren't her friends.

She ran the water as she blinked back tears. Suddenly, she wasn't very hungry anymore.

\ \ / /

"Where'd Mione go?" Harry asked halfway through dinner. Both he and Draco had seen Hermione sprint from the Hall and, twenty minutes later, still hadn't come back. These days, Draco and Harry sat at the end of the table closest to the doors with Ron six or seven seats down, by themselves but happily and in peace.

"Probably somewhere to be alone," Draco said casually. "I'm surprised that she didn't hear about it earlier."

"What?" Harry put down his knife and fork.

"_You_ don't know?" Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Well, everyone's saying that both of us are with her."

"With her?" Harry echoed.

"Yeah, seeing her, together." Draco looked at Harry strangely. "What?"

"Aren't we a bit... I don't know, _young_?" he asked, looking embarrassed as he usually did when he felt he was treading dangerous wizarding waters.

Draco shook his head, grinning. "Yeah. Some older prat probably started it, not realizing how impossible it was." He thought back to the Weasely twins, maybe them. "Hermione probably freaked out a bit and went to the bathroom or something when someone asked her if it was true."

"How do they get _that_?"

Draco already had an answer. "Normally, a Malfoy and a Mudblood are never seen together. Right there, you get gossip. Then you and Hermione they might get from you being friends with me, then some moron got the name wrong," Draco said. "She'll come back soon. Hermione's a strong girl; she can deal with it."

Just then, the door to the Hall burst open and Professor Quirrell came in, turban crooked and an unmistakeable expression of terror on his face. "Troll! Troll in the d—d—dungeons!" he said, out of breath. "T—thought you o—o—ought to know." Then he fainted.

Draco refused to let himself freak out. He had more control than that. Harry, who didn't know trolls existed, had stood up. Draco grabbed the back of his robes. "Trolls are really stupid," he said. Harry turned around.

It took many purple firecrackers from Professor Dumbledore's wand to make the students calm down.

"Please, don't panic," he shouted. "Prefects will lead their houses back to the dormitory. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons."

In the chaos, no one except Draco noticed Snape slip out the door to the Trophy Room. There were half a dozen portrait shortcuts there. You could go _anywhere_ in the castle from that room.

Dumbledore came down to Marcus. "Mr. Flint, I want you and your house to stay in here; the dungeons aren't safe."

"Yes, sir," Marcus replied.

As Dumbledore shut the doors, they glowed red for a moment before returning to normal.

"Protection spell," Draco explained to Harry. Every Slytherin sat in their spots and continued talking, except Draco and Harry. Something was bugging Draco, and his couldn't put his finger on it. "Hermione," he whispered painfully.

Harry looked up from his dinner, his eyes widening. "She doesn't know. We need to warn her."

"Exactly," said Draco. "But Marcus isn't going to let us pass, and unless you can do a Disillusion Charm, we can't leave. That protection spell is probably just against trolls."

"You've known him longer," Harry persisted. "Isn't there any way?"

Draco ticked off ideas from his fingers. "Asking, compromise, bribery, blackmail, threat. The only one that _could_ work is threat, and that's one that you need to do. _I_ don't have anything to threaten him with."

"Me? Ohh." Harry understood after a moment. Marcus was a Quidditch freak.

"Can you do that? You don't know how much Marcus wants to beat the Gryffindors," Draco practically begged.

Harry hesitantly nodded.

"Then let's go before you change your mind." Draco steered Harry over to the surly Prefect. "Let us out," Draco said.

"Why?"

"Marc, that's none of your business." His eyes glinted at the old nickname.

"If I can't know, then you can't get out," said Flint smartly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Draco laughed.

"I believe a lot of things about you these days, Malfoy," Marcus said frostily.

Draco flinched. Sometimes he forgot that his old friends didn't quite like him anymore and that it still hurt him. There goes asking, he thought, and there's no compromise here.

"What if I told you that if you let us out, Harry would win us the Cup?"

Marcus narrowed his eyes, his love of Quidditch and loyalty to Slytherin warring with his duty to a Headmaster he didn't like. "Then I'd say go ahead." He stepped aside. "Quickly."

They ran out the door and to the second floor.

"That's the closest bathroom, right?" Draco asked rhetorically.

Harry nodded. A sharp smell wafted over them: a mixture of rotten eggs and old socks. Harry opened his mouth when Draco put his hand over it.

"The troll," he hissed. "Aren't smart, but could pound us easily."

The troll lumbered down the hall, its thick, tree-truck like legs moving slowly. It was one of the ugliest things Draco had ever seen. Lumpy grey skin covered its equally lumpy body, and long arms dangled pass its knees. It turned its small, bald, coconut-like head on granite shoulders and looked curiously at a door with a witch on it, then it went inside. The door next to it opened and a redhead came out.

"What smells?" Ron said loudly.

"Shut it!" Draco snapped. "That troll." He pointed to the door with a witch on it.

"We could lock it in," Ron whispered.

"Are you thick?" Draco snapped impatiently. "That's the girls' bathroom." The weight of Draco's words hit him. It was the girls' bathroom... the troll had just gone in... with a huge club... _where Hermione was_. "We have to follow it."

"We're all thick," Harry muttered as he followed Draco inside.

The troll was throwing its club clumsily around, smashing anything that made contact. The sinks were shattered and mirror shards littered the floor. The stalls were broken into timber. Hermione just ducked as it swung over her head.

"Help!" she yelled.

Harry rushed forward and threw a broken pipe at the troll's head. Ron threw more things at the troll, only annoying it. Maybe noise then, Draco thought as he chucked a metal pipe at the wall. It rebounded with a _clang_ just as Ron yelled, "OI! Peabrain!"

The troll turned around, its attention away from Hermione. Draco took his chance. He ran past the troll and made his way to Hermione. "C'mon, c'mon." He held out his hand as ducked as more shrapnel rained. She hesitated, but took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and ran back to Harry and Ron. The troll was still distracted with Ron and Harry's thrown things, but it was starting to grow bored of the tiny, angry humans.

"Let's get outta here," Draco said.

"We just gonna leave this... thing here?" Harry asked incredulously.

"If you can knock it out, perfect. Otherwise..."

Ron pulled out his wand. "I have an idea."

Harry and Hermione started to protest, but Draco cut over them, "If you won't get yourself killed, go ahead."

Ron shot him an annoyed look before saying, "_Wingardium Leviousa!_"

The troll's club soared straight up. It looked around stupidly for it before Ron let go of the spell, letting it fall... smack on the troll's head.

Hermione and Harry stared in amazement as the troll _bammed_ to the ground. Draco mentally kicked himself for not thinking of that sooner.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked, moving closer.

"Just knocked out," Ron said triumphantly. He turned to Draco. "See?" he asked pointedly.

"Once again: let's go!" Draco said, pulling Ron from his handiwork. "We don't wanna get caught with this thing."

They ran from the site like murderers fleeing a body. They heard people come towards them from the Grand Staircase.

"Bloody hell," Draco said.

Ron moved to a portrait and said something that Draco couldn't hear. The portrait swung open, revealing a passageway. "Fred and George showed me," he explained. "Well, c'mon!"

When the professors came into the second floor corridor, they didn't even notice the portrait swinging shut.

"_Lumos_." Hermione's wand tip lit, and Draco could see their scared, worried faces pale in the wand light. It was barely two feet wide but a long corridor stretched further than Draco could see. He was thankful that it was tall enough so that they didn't bang their heads on the ceiling as well.

"That was close," Harry whispered from his left.

Ron pointed to the darkness. They moved through quietly, hearing their professors' voices soften and eventually disappear behind them. After five minutes of going through the tunnel, they saw a latch. Ron pushed it open and the floor turned to a ramp, sliding them out.

"A warning would be nice." Draco dusted himself off and stood up, looking around. He poked his head around one corner, and nearly fell backwards. Someone was coming. More than one someone. "Back!" he whispered. "Back! Back! Back!"

The others rushed back into the portrait passageway. They were making their way back when Draco stopped them.

"I want to hear,"he breathed. They hesitated, but stayed as he pressed his ear to the door, careful to not touch the latch and send them outside to meet the others. The first word made the hairs on Draco's neck stand up.

"Quirrell, I knew you'd be here!" It was Snape. And he was furious.

Ron listened with open-mouth horror and Harry with shock, Hermione stared at the door as if it betrayed her—not all teachers are saints, Draco thought, but he himself was astounded and frankly, a little scared.

"Snape!" Quirrell was obviously surprised, but if Snape hadn't called him by name, Draco would never have guessed it was his spineless Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. His voice was high and cold with no stutters.

There was the sound of a door being opened and shut again, a spell cast and an explosion. Then the growling and snapping of teeth blocked out anything else.

"What was that?" Ron asked quietly.

"Let's move," Draco advised. "Here." He pulled the latch before anyone could argue and they slid out again.

It looked like Ron was about to explode, but Draco pointed his wand threateningly. He needed to find out what was behind the damn door, why Snape was so angry and why Quirrell seemed to be a different person. He tapped the door cautiously, and opened it. Then slammed it fast. The others were asking whispered questions but Draco was trying to get his breath back.

In that millisecond, Draco saw something he didn't want to ever see again. A three-headed dog was snapping and barking at Snape and Quirrell, who were shooting spells at it, trying to calm it down. Snape was on the ground, though, and he looked like he was bleeding.

But he opened the door again, the question burning in his mind: Why were they there? The horrible scene met his eyes for a second time, but Draco tried to ignore it and look for something that he missed before. He felt Hermione poke her head in beside his. Then her finger shot out. The floor—_a trapdoor_. It was right under the dog's feet. Draco shut the door.

"What's in there?" asked Ron, moving forward with Harry

Draco moved back, his mind racing. Then he realized what he did and tried to stop them but they were frozen in the open doorway, a foghorn scream on their lips.

He closed the door again, and ran, not looking back. He knew that Harry, Hermione and Ron were somewhere behind him. He knew that they would catch up, so he pushed himself harder, going faster down the stairs, practically flying.

"Wait up!" Hermione called.

He was at the bottom, so he stopped, panting against the wall.

Draco looked at Harry when he came down. "I think... we know what's... protecting that... thing from... vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Harry's eyes grew as he turned to Ron. "Where did that shortcut throw us?"

Ron's ears turned red. "I dunno, Fred and George just said that no one knew about it."

"Third floor corridor?" Hermione asked. "I read about the Gringot's break-in earlier this week. You think that whatever it is, it's in the forbidden corridor?"

"We think so," Harry said.

"What is it?" Draco asked, more himself than anyone else.

"No idea," Harry replied.

"Dunno," Ron said.

"Something either really dangerous or really powerful," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Dumbledore might've wanted to protect it, and offered Hogwarts as a hiding place," Harry said.

"From...?" Ron asked.

"Snape and Quirrell," Draco said.

"Probably Quirrell, though," Harry said. "He was a bit different, and he's a strange bloke anyways. You know Snape, right?"

Draco nodded, his mind racing. "Yeah. Quirrell, though. Did you hear how he talked?"

They continued to discuss it until they came up with the following things they agreed about. One: something had been stolen from a vault just before school, and suddenly there's a forbidden corridor. Two: in the corridor there's a trapdoor and three headed dog. Three: Snape and Quirrell were both going in to get it. Four: they had no idea what it was. Five: it was about two inches long.

"_I_ think we should go," Draco said after another few minutes.

"Our dormitories?" Hermione said.

The awkward silence that followed was the worst thing that happened the whole night.

"Okay, well, goodbye then," said Ron.

Harry smiled and gave her a hug. "Really glad you're not dead." She grinned back at him.

Harry and Ron left to the Slytherin dormitories, leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

"See you tomorrow, Mione. I'm glad you're alive," he said.

"Yeah, thanks," she said quietly.

\ \ / /


	18. Nicolas Flamel

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter.

**Thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted, reviewed or just loved this story. On to the show then.**

/watch?v=8JU2DKlzTtk

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: NICOLAS FLAMEL**

_Welcome to mystery  
- Plain White T's_ "Welcome to Mystery"

With Christmas came a snowstorm that, when the wind left, covered the castle and grounds like a clean white sheet. The halls were decorated with Christmas trees, decorated with tinsel and garlands and, to Harry's surprise, live faeries. The suits of armour dotted around the school were bewitched to sing Christmas carols when people passed—Peeves liked to fill in the gaps of the songs with his own rude versions.

The castle had mostly forgotten or forgiven Draco's incident. Blaise was one of the few that didn't want to let go. This had the promise of being Harry's best Christmas ever; he had friends (who were happy), no one was going to yell at him or ignore him purposely, and there was going to be a huge Christmas feast. They could practically taste it Christmas morning; the smell of hundred roasting turkeys saturated the school.

Hermione had left to go skiing with her family. Draco couldn't understand how skiing could be fun or a good way to spend _Christmas_. He had tried to persuade her to stay over the holidays, but she still went. Draco had said that he wasn't going to face his family yet, and Harry had said the same—there was no way that he was going to choose and return to number four. Ron they weren't sure about. He wasn't going home either, but Harry and Draco weren't sure if they should include him. Yeah, he saved their necks, but he wasn't really their friend. They talked sometimes, but mostly they left each other to their own devices.

One way or another, it was going to be a very merry Christmas. There was nothing to stop it, except...

"What do you think was in seven hundred and thirteen?" Draco asked for the millionth time on the evening of December the twenty-third.

They were alone in the common room, staring into the green fire. Most of Slytherin house was purebloods and half-bloods who had families who demanded they come home. Draco had that too but he wasn't going to see them. There were advantages to having the common room to themselves: they could have the best armchairs by the fire, and they could talk about anything they wanted without worrying about being overheard. They hadn't told anyone about their misadventure on Halloween and they planned to keep it that way.

"I have no idea," answered Harry honestly, his patience waning.

"What could be so valuable that both Snape and Quirrell would battle it out for, and is that small? What could need such protection? Why was Quirrell acting so different?" Draco fired the questions off to himself. Quirrell had been no different from his quivering, trembling, stuttering self who wouldn't raise his wand for fear of an immediate, painful death. Seeing the look on Snape's face recently, Harry couldn't say he blamed him.

Harry had learned that Draco could obsess about things very easily.

"I don't know, but we'd have to figure out what it is first," Harry said.

"Yeah. Who would know? Hagrid might," Draco answered his own question. "How to get it out of him?"

"I don't know," Harry repeated, getting annoyed.

"You think you could talk it out of him, first try?" Draco's voice lost its thinking-out-loud aspect and turned serious.

"I don't know."

They were interrupted by a knock. Draco snapped around at the sound. _Knock. Knock._

When they finally looked at the window, the eagle was almost completely a snowy white, the quickly falling snow covering her like a furry hat and coat. Harry went over to it and squeezed the lock. The eagle had a package, also snow covered.

"Syria?" Draco asked, curiosity and worry in his voice. "What're you doing here?"

His bird flew over to him and shook the snow off herself like a dog.

Draco took the package hesitantly and opened it immediately. Syria took off quickly through the open window. He opened an envelope and read it quickly, his face losing colour. He read through another letter before picking up what was in the box. A book. Harry looked at it curiously. A leather book, not much bigger than a paperback with little gold corners and some words in gold on the back. Draco dropped the book in shock.

"It—it can't—No! No. No. No. No. No. No." His voice lost volume with each _no_ until he was whispering.

Harry went closer.

"Don't," said Draco sharply. "I don't know what it can do."

Harry looked at him pointedly. "It's a _book._"

Draco just handed him the letter. "Read," he whispered, collapsing into his chair.

Written in precise, neat handwriting was the following letter.

_Dearest Draco,_

_Your mother and I do not hate you but are severely disappointed in you. In an attempt to show you the true power of the Dark Lord and His side, I would like you to write in the enclosed book. It has been enchanted with the very essence of the Dark Lord so, in a way, he is still alive. He can still talk to you from beyond the grave. His might is still on this lit world.  
His power is still very much alive, even though his body was dead. Even though the Dark Lord has passed, His side and what He stood for is not and never will be dead. The Dark Side is most prominent in Hogwarts, even with Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster. The Chamber of Secrets. It can be reopened and this book, entrusted to me by the Dark Lord Himself, will help in doing so.  
As you know, the creature in the Chamber is something only the heir of Slytherin can control and will purge all Mudbloods and filth from your otherwise fantastic magical school. That heir is you. The Dark Lord was but He made _me_ the heir, passing the legacy on as I am now doing to _you._ As your father, I order you to try to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. _

_Your father,  
Lucius Malfoy_

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry found his mouth form the words. He gave the letter to Draco again and said, "It's a _book_."

"Any object can have Dark magic," Draco lectured, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back. "Books are some of the most dangerous."

"Hermione would disagree," said Harry, trying to keep things light.

Draco, who had been shaking like a volatile potion, exploded. "Don't you get it, Potter? The monster of the Chamber of Secrets will kill _every_ _single_ _Muggleborn in Hogwarts!_"

"Muggleborns?" asked Harry.

"Basically a-a Mudblood but the politically correct term. 'Mudblood' is a really foul name for them," Draco explained quickly, waving his hand before he continued to rant. "Hermione is a Muggleborn! Ron, you and me are blood traitors who will also die! That's what Father's planning! He wants me and every Muggleborn dead!" Draco shouted. "Death by a Slytherin monster isn't exactly something I aspire to! We're already busy with seven hundred and thirteen—and I'm not adding any more shit to the list!"

He started to pace, his eyes wide and frantic. "Don't you get this, Potter? My family—my _father_! This isn't friends I've known all my life; this is my _father! My family!_ Going against them in beliefs was the hardest thing I've ever done! I can't go against a direct order just a few months later! I'm supposed to do this! This is what I'm born to do. Whether I like to or not, this is what I _have_ to do! I _have_ to open the Chamber; I'll _have_ to become a Dark wizard! It's what I was born to do! What I was raised to be! It's in my blood!" He stopped in front of Harry and his eyes turned pleading, begging for understanding. Harry couldn't give it.

That was the last straw for Harry. Blood? He stood up and, against his better judgement, followed Draco's screaming example. "In your blood? That's the best you've got? You've turned against your family, your beliefs!"

"THIS IS _FAMILY_!" Draco bellowed. "NOT BELIEFS! This is something I was born to be _by my parents_! That's hardly something I'd expect _you_ to understand!" he spat, sneering hatefully as he shouted his next words. "Parents! Family! Love! The obligation _of_ family!"

Harry backed up, hurt, but refused to let Malfoy see that. Malfoy's face changed from anger to shock faster than a speeding Nimbus two thousand. "I'm sorry, Po—Harry," he started to apologise but Harry was already rushing down the dungeon corridor.

That—that bastard! He hadn't changed! He wasn't going to. He would turn back to his family, anyways, so why should Harry even bother to try and change him? That other, Dark Draco was ready to come back and the Draco Harry knew and was friends with wasn't strong enough to keep him away. He would go back to being the horrible, bigoted bully he was before on the train and Madam Malkin's.

Harry was so caught in his own anger that he didn't notice Hagrid's bushy hair and large evergreen tree. "'Ello, 'Arry!" greeted Hagrid.

"Hullo, Hagrid."

"Why are yeh lookin' so sad?" Hagrid's massive eyebrows knitted together.

"Draco and I had a bit of an argument," Harry replied harshly as he followed Hagrid into the Great Hall.

He forgot all thoughts of Malfoy when he entered the Hall. Over a dozen trees decorated with silver, gold and bronze baubles the size of baseballs and garlands wrapped around the magnificent trees. Professors McGonagall and tiny Flitwick were decorating the last few. "Ah, Hagrid, at last," Flitwick squeaked. "Excellent. Put the final one over there." Hagrid went over and started to set up the final tree. McGonagall was also conjuring mistletoe and hanging it around, as well as real live faeries. She gave him the Look Harry was used to getting from her: like she was a bit disappointed. She must've also been really upset that Gryffindor was getting flattened in every Quidditch game. But then the Look dissolved and the corners of her mouth turned. That was on par with giving a bear hug for her. Harry grinned. He was taking Draco's early descriptions of the teachers much less literally and now McGonagall was his favourite and her lessons were the most interesting by far, even though his best subject, to Snape's absolute shock, was Potions.

Harry, feeling an almost obnoxious, Gryffindor-esque brave, walked up to Professor McGonagall. She looked down at him with that same stern look she gave almost everyone except Hermione. She said, "Yes, Potter?"

"Did you expect me to be in Gryffindor?" asked Harry bluntly, concentrating all his fury on something productive.

She was a bit surprised at the question. "Well, a bit perhaps. I knew both your parents. They were wonderful students and you couldn't find a better witch or wizard anywhere, and both Gryffindors."

"Just because I'm Slytherin, doesn't mean I'm evil," said Harry.

The corners of her mouth flickered and Harry thought maybe she'd smile. She didn't. Her mouth got a little less thin, anyways. "Your mother said the very same thing."

Harry couldn't believe his next words but, riding on adrenaline and the after-shock of anger and hurt, he said, "Why does Professor Snape not like me, ma'am?"

She turned back to decorating. "Your father. They had a rivalry. Good heavens, I can remember the times they would both show up in the Hospital Wing and no one would ask a single question. It was all obvious; your father's friends and Severus had had another conflict."

"Anything with my mother? Ma'am?" asked Harry persistently.

Professor McGonagall turned as still as a statue. Her lips thinned dangerously. "They were... friends in their early Hogwarts years. Then she got together with your father. Why are you asking such questions, Potter?"

Harry grinned. He got what he wanted. "No particular reason, professor." An answer to Snape's hatred—a _proper_ one. Snape and his father duelled and fought; his mother and him were friends but she went out with his father and that was the betrayal of the century.

Harry left before she could do anything else, like take points from Slytherin, and pulled out his wand, looking at Hagrid's tree. "How do you even decorate them?" he asked curiously.

"Some kind o' c'njurin'."

Harry felt a bit guilty for not going back to visit Hagrid. He was about to explain when Hagrid brought up the worst possible topic.

"So, yeh friend Malfoy... sorry, 'Arry. I took 'im ter be the wrong sort," he said apologetically.

"That's alright," Harry said dismissively. "Do wizards put silly little ornaments on their Christmas trees?" he asked casually.

"Some o' 'em do, why?" Hagrid asked, straightening out the branches.

Harry shrugged. "I was just thinking that a three-headed dog would look absolutely magnificent right about _there_." He pointed to the top. "It could be charmed to roar, right? And have realistic saliva dripping and have spells shooting at it, maybe it could even be in a third floor corridor."

Hagrid looked at him, shocked. "How do yeh know 'bout Fluffy?"

Harry had to laugh at the stereotypical cat name. "You _named_ it?"

"Fluffy's my pet," said Hagrid in a gruff, defensive voice.

"Pet?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah. I won him in a pub down in the village last year, then I leant him to Dumbledore to guard the Philo—that's stop secret, that is!" Hagrid stopped, looking angry at himself. "How did yeh even find 'im?"

"Ran in accidentally," Harry said absently. "But something we noticed—"

"We?" Hagrid echoed.

Crap. "Hermione and me. We were running from—someone and hid in Fluffy's room," lied Harry. "But something we noticed was that Fluffy liked sitting on a trapdoor, as if guarding something."

Hagrid took on the offensive now, putting his hands on his hips, his face forming a frown behind his beard. "Now, listen. No one's meant ter know about 'im and no one _should_. Yer messing in things yeh don't understand. Besides, it's none of yer business; that's strictly between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel!"

"Nicolas Flamel?" Harry felt a slow smile grow on his face as his eyes twinkled. He was starting to like this sort of thing. Mystery. Uncovering secrets. And the look on Hagrid's face.

Hagrid's look of anger increased a thousand fold.

\ \ / /

"Nicolas Flamel!" Harry called triumphantly when he returned to the common room.

"Listen, Harry, I was outta line," Draco was starting, jumping from his seat anxiously, then his ears caught up. "What? Who's Nicolas Flamel?" he asked, blinking.

Harry was a bit disappointed; he had hoped Draco had an idea. "No idea. I told Hagrid about that three headed dog. He called it _Fluffy_ and said it was guarding something between Flamel and Dumbledore."

"Okay. Harry, I shouldn't have said that." Draco pelted Harry relentlessly with apologises before Harry shook his head and told him to shut up, that it was fine, even though he was still a bit hurt because, in all respects, Draco was completely right.

"What're you doing about that book?" asked Harry at last.

Draco didn't say anything for a minute. "I'm gonna leave Tom M. Riddle where he belongs: stuffed in the bottom of my trunk. Well, he belongs with his owner. Dead."

They got ready for bed and turned in. Harry had gotten so used to the strange bedrooms and drafty castle that it was more of a home than Private Drive ever was or ever would become. It was a place where people cared for him and he knew he would find the family he _could_ have to replace the loss of his blood one.

"Hermione'll know about Flamel. I'd bet by broomstick," Draco said much later, when Harry was almost asleep.

He just muttered and drifted off into rather horrifying dreams, ones he hadn't had since Hagrid first told him the truth about his parents. Harry's mind dredged up the images of James and Lily Potter from the Mirror of Erised, swimming them tauntingly before his eyes before making them vanish in a brilliant flash of green light, as a cold, high voice laughed.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. "Only a dream, only a dream, only a dream," he repeated over and over, clutching his scar, which was stinging something awful. But he couldn't make himself believe it. It was, after all, what had probably happened.

Harry got up and, rather uneasily, left the dungeons. He had to see his parents again, smiling and happy. If only he knew where they were... Harry searched through where he thought Draco and he had stumbled upon the room. There were only empty classrooms and locked closets and corridors. After nearly an hour of looking through the deserted, freezing castle Harry hit the jackpot.

He opened the final door and there it stood, as if it had waited for him, amongst the unused desks and unneeded school things. The Mirror was still ceiling height, crafted in shining gold with Gothic script saying something about his heart's desire—at least according to Draco's translation. The three points that stretched towards the rises in the ceiling seemed to crown Lily and James Potter, the space between them painfully empty.

Lily, red haired and pretty, smiled and cried at the son she never properly met while her husband just smiled, wiping his eyes in an ashamed way every now and then. Harry, not having a proper chance to see them, reached out towards them until his fingertips barely touched the smooth polished glass. He wanted to believe they were still real. So long as he didn't feel the Mirror, they were real, he thought with the painful innocence of the child he was. They were real.

Harry just watched them, a horrible ach starting to grow in him as time passed, half joy, half terrible sadness, that mingled into a word Harry had a name for: love. He sat down on the cold stone floor, his parents following suit, and just stayed there, gazing at the family he wished he had, for such a time that the darkness of night and the gleam of the moonlight started to disappear and lighten.

Hours later Harry was distantly aware of a door opening but he didn't pay much attention. The worst Snape could do would be to give him detention and drag him away; there was always tomorrow. He was imaging what his school life would have been like if he were raised by two Gryffindors when someone sat down beside him. After what was still an unknown amount of time, Harry tore his eyes from his parents and looked over at the boy sitting next to him.

They didn't say a word. There was no need. Harry just turned back to the Mirror and, very slowly, the image changed. James and Lily were still there, Harry still sitting between them with his father's hand on his shoulder but now there was another boy beside him, looking nothing like the rest of the Potters, but was smiling shyly, with Lily's hand on his shoulder. The boy had pale blonde hair and an even paler face with gray eyes set in a very casual, joyful way that Harry never saw in real life. He didn't realise how much his friend's eyes had gained an almost haunted quality, even while smiling.

When the white morning glow of the winter sun started to crawl through the stone window and beneath the door, both boys stood up and dusted themselves off. With one last forlorn glance at the Mirror, Harry left the room, Draco right behind him as they made their way back to the dungeons. Harry knew he would be back the next day and the next, the day after that and for as long as he could. He would wander back in the dead of night and just see his parents because that would be enough. Most of the time he would be by himself but sometimes—just sometimes Draco would be there, too.

\ \ / /

**I got something I'd like to tell you lot-actually a few somethings. **

**1. I'm trying to make it a little clearer (because I think in canon, it's forgotten sometimes) that Harry's just an 11 year old boy who's lived with horrible guardians and wants his parents, or at least a family, but has to settle for a family made by bond.  
**

**2. I have another one-shot collection up and on: the Boggarts. A collection of what the Harry Potter characters are scared of most. Draco's is up (canon Draco) and Hermione's is getting some last minute tweeking.**

**3. I'm going to give you a clue: _everything_ will come back to haunt them, or have a greater meaning at the very least.**

**4. I'm thinking about rewriting it when Year 1 is over. My writing at the start is (in my opinion) bloody awful but I won't start on that until I've got some chapters in stock and the Philosopher's Stone is over.**


	19. Christmas in Slytherin

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter.

**Thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted, reviewed or just loved this story. This chapter is a bit long but I really love Christmas... Yes, I know it's July. And I think I like Harry's Christmas present.**

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**CHAPTER NINETEEN: CHRISTMAS IN SLYTHERIN**

Insert favourite Christmas song.

Christmas in Slytherin was a strange affair. Harry got up and put his glasses on, as he did every day, looking forward to the fun and festivities, but unlike every day there was a pile of presents and boxes at the foot of his bed and the smell of turkeys and roasting meat assaulted him. Turning around Harry saw a Christmas tree in the corner, silver and shining emerald ornaments and garlands that were easily distinguishable from the branches. Draco was already up and unwrapping one from his own pile which was, rather surprisingly, the same size as Harry's. Harry stared at the presents for a good five minutes before Draco finally looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I've got presents," said Harry, still gawping.

Draco rolled his eyes and tossed a silver wrapped one to Harry. "They're real. Go on," he coaxed, tearing the paper off a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and scanning the card from Hermione.

Harry turned the silver one in his hands anxiously. His Christmases were never very memorable: Dudley got dozens and dozens of gifts; the tree stood in the corner, immaculately, unnaturally decorated; dinner was a very silent event where Harry got the least of everything and he went to bed early in order to escape for some peace.

He finally untied the ribbon and folded away the paper. Something long and silver slipped out and slithered onto the floor, looking strangely like a huge piece of cloth but moving more like water. It had odd warbles and swirls of different dark, shimmering colours woven into the fabric which was so smooth and almost slippery that Harry wondered what it could possibly be made of.

"Who gave you that?" gasped Draco, dropping the box of Beans on his bed. Harry only then noticed a note on the ground but Draco got there first. "_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you,_" Draco read, his brow drawing together in confusion. "Your father? Try it on. I think it's—Salazar's snake!" he yelped.

Harry gave him an amused look as he swung it over his shoulders. "_Salazar's snake_?" Then he looked down and shouted, "My body's gone!" He ran to the mirror, tripping over clothes and drapes: his reflection showed only a head, suspended in midair. Harry pulled it over his head and his reflection vanished entirely.

"How's that _possible_?" Draco marvelled, circling Harry and touching the cloak. "It's an Invisibility Cloak. They're not normally meant to last more than about—maybe five, six years. But your father..." He dropped off into whispers. Harry only caught words every now and then. "... ten years ago... no, much more... how's that _possible_?... no Disillusionment Charm could last so long... Demiguise neither..."

"Um, Draco?" asked Harry cautiously, sitting down and playing with the Cloak. "What?"

"Invisibility Cloaks can only last a certain amount of time—I've seen Father's do six and a half years before becoming useless," he said quickly. "There's something strange with that Cloak. And we don't even know who sent it." Then something seemed to click and his eyes shot open but Harry didn't see it.

"I'd love to know who..." Harry trailed off, fingering the material. Then he saw Draco who was trying to cover up some revelation he had. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, but it was in a tone Harry recognised as a lying one. "It's probably just nothing."

"What?" demanded Harry. "What were you thinking of?"

Draco didn't exactly blush—he never blushed—but a pale pink tinge appeared and he looked suddenly awkward. "Well, there's only one Invisibility Cloak that was rumoured to last that long. And it was passed from father to son for... hundreds of years. You never looked up your wizarding family? The Potters?"

Harry shook his head, feeling as though he wished he hadn't asked.

"They're one of the oldest, purest wizarding families, tracing back centuries—they _could _be descended from the original owner," he mused. "This Cloak of Invisibility was supposedly the only true one in existence. Even in a world of magic, there's still logic and all the ways a cloak can be made invisible can't last for more than a decade. It's really just a myth, something told like a fairy tale to wizarding children." Draco turned a bit pinker for suggesting something like this.

Harry took the Cloak off and looked at it properly, taking in the different colours and designs.

"Most Cloaks are the same before the ability of invisibility was added," continued Draco anxiously. "They don't have that sort of texture; I don't know of anything that feels like that. But that myth is something about Death meeting three brothers and giving each of them a gift: a wand that can't be beaten for the oldest brother, a stone to bring back the dead for the middle brother, and, for the youngest, the Cloak of Invisibility. The first two brothers died because of their gifts; the first one being killed for the wand and the middle committing suicide from loneliness because the stone only brought back a shadow of his dead fiancé. The third, though, lived and died of old age, passing the Cloak on to his son. The name died out pretty soon; they might have married into the Potters. That Cloak, if the myth is right, will repel any spell and remain as invisible as it was hundreds of years ago."

Harry looked at him sceptically but felt a chill come over him. An unbeatable wand and rock that could bring the dead to life? "Are—are you sure?"

Draco grinned. "Nope. Not at all. It makes a twisted sort of sense, though." With that, he returned to his presents, a little slower but keeping a steady pace.

Harry shook his head but kept the Cloak around his shoulders as he continued. There was one with brown wrappings which happened to be from Hagrid; it was a slightly crooked and homemade looking flute that Hagrid obviously whittled himself. Harry blew it and cringed as the owl hoot rebounded off the walls. Draco pulled out a giant tin of treacle fudge, which he eyed distrustfully, and a box of something that said _Honeydukes Best Chocolate_ which Draco seemed to prefer, even if it was in red. It seemed Hagrid was trying to make up for mistaking him. Harry was about to point it out but that was the last thing either of them wanted.

Harry instead picked up a rather sad-looking card. _We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. _Taped to the note was a fifty-pencepiece.

"Very nice," snorted Harry but Draco was once again distracted by Harry's odd presents, picking it up and inspecting it.

"Weird," he muttered, amazed. "What a shape! This is _money_?" he asked.

Harry laughed at how fascinated Draco was. "Keep it," said Harry. "That's about a sickle's worth, I'd wager. From my aunt and uncle," he added.

Draco's eyebrows shot into his hair and handed it back, returning to his bed. "If you're getting money for Christmas..." He shook his head and continued a little quieter, obviously feeling sorry for Harry.

Harry continued as well, expecting nothing less of the Dursleys. He was actually shocked they sent him any sort of money. There was also a rather lumpy package with a little tag saying that it was from a Mrs. Weasley. Harry turned bright red. Oh, no. He poked it. It didn't explode so he deemed it safe to open. It was a thick, woollen handmade jumper in emerald green and a tin of homemade fudge. Wizards defiantly have something with homemade things, thought Harry as he tried the fudge, which was very tasty. Hermione's also had sweets: a large box of Chocolate Frogs. The next, and last one, he picked up looked much more formal with much neater green and silver paper. It was about the size of a watch box. Harry shook it, wondering what was inside.

Draco was pulling off an identical present, looking at it with a smile. "Brilliant. Mother knows Dobby killed them..." he muttered.

Harry was about to untie the silver ribbons when Draco turned a bit pink. "That's from my parents, I think. Mother sent another letter, just by herself. She—she isn't that bad, it's Father that's—in any case, that's from her," he said awkwardly.

Harry just said, "That's nice of her," before tearing off the paper and opening the little box. Inside the velvet were two very handsome silver snakes, intertwined to form a figure eight about the length of his hand. One of them had glowing sapphire eyes and the other had glittering emeralds. The heads, which were near the top, started to twist and snap playfully at Harry's fingers. Then Harry thought he was going mad before he remembered where he was: the blue-eyed snake said, _"Hello, there. It was rather nice in there!" _He was so shocked he dropped it.

The snakes muttered things about him being cruel to animals and one of them, the green-eyed one, said, _"Put us back, will you? It's cold out here!"_

Harry, not aware of what he was doing, nodded numbly and said, "Yeah. Sure. You two have names?" He was picking them up and they started to twine around his fingers, slipping up his sleeve.

Draco, who was telling him to be careful, fell off his bed at those words, careful to not drop his own little box. It seemed he had gotten the same.

Harry was feeling a bit stupid. He had charmed snakes which were talking to him; who was to say they didn't have names? (He would learn later that the blue-eyed one was Hydra and the other one was called Heidi.) He looked at Draco and asked what was wrong.

Draco was staring at him, impressed, trying to climb back on the bed without taking his eyes off the snakes or Harry. "You can talk to snakes?" he finally asked.

"Well," started Harry thoughtfully, "I accidentally sent a python on my cousin at the zoo once—once! The look on his face was worth it, though." Harry smiled as he remembered Dudley's panicked expression as he fell in.

Draco was laughing like an idiot. "I _bet_ it was worth it! That must've been fantastic. You're a Parselmouth, though," he said in wonder. "I never would've guessed you."

Harry shrugged, blushing, when one of the mini-snakes nipped his arm painfully. "Do you know if these are poisonous or—?" he asked worriedly.

"Nah," said Draco between Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Mother hates the poisonous variety ever since we lost a house elf to them. They're rather nice creatures. Just be careful: they're enchanted silver but the charm will last for decades, it's just that—well, I've had a few sets and they've sort of... snapped when our house elf was cleaning them." His hand dug deeper into the pinstriped box.

"You planning on finishing those off today?" asked Harry, amused, as he watched Draco continue.

He just shrugged, offering the box to Harry who tore into his own Chocolate Frogs. They had fun wasting the morning, tossing the candies back on forth and trading wizarding cards. Then, somehow, neither boy knew how, it turned into a wrapping paper fight, chucking the balled up paper and aiming at each other's heads or to knock the sweets out of hand. Draco thought Harry using the Cloak was cheating; Harry preferred to see it as utilising everything he had. Eventually, both boys turned their backs and started to put away the gifts, Harry kept his Cloak in hand, stuffing it into his back pocket. The snakes also refused to come from his sleeve so, at last, Harry left them alone. He just hoped they didn't need to eat.

For the first time Harry could remember, he walked out on a Christmas morning with a smile on his face. He wandered into the common room a bit sooner than he would have otherwise, Draco still attempting to clean up. He had taken one look at the Weasley jumper than at Harry and simply nodded, saying, "You go. I'll be there in a minute."

The common room was empty except for a certain redhead who was blending in with all the red and gold that was in the common room. Harry took a second look. The fire was red and yellow, the trees were charmed gold and the ornaments were gold and red, and the furniture was all red and gold, the wood much lighter. The Slytherin banner was also changed to a Gryffindor lion. Harry went over and sat beside Ron. Harry noticed he was wearing a jumper, looking at it murderously.

"You don't like red, I take it?" asked Harry, trying to ignore the red confetti raining on his hair.

Ron shook his head. "It's maroon and I _hate_ maroon," he groaned.

"How're things with your family?" asked Harry bluntly.

Ron brightened at the change of conversation that didn't include the colours related to red. "Much better, actually. Fred and George and Percy are fine, they all—forgive me. Ginny, my little sister, she's written back and forth, being a little annoying, really, with asking about the Slytherin common room and dormitories. I think she wants to be like Fred and George and come and break in to change the colours."

"That was them?" demanded Harry, shaking out more gold stars from his hair and spitting out some red lions. "_Why_?"

Ron grinned. "They wanted to prank any Slytherins staying over the holidays."

"It's just us, though. Well, us and Draco." Harry grinned, too, thinking of Draco's reaction when he found out the common room was now Gryffindor. "Thank your mother for me, will you?" Ron gave him a look. "She sent me a jumper and some fudge."

Ron turned as red as the confetti piling on his shoulders. "She's gotten much better. She wanted to thank _you_, actually, helping her youngest son adjust to Hogwarts without his brothers," he said, half embarrassed, half disgusted. "That's word for word. She sent a letter."

"A Howler?" reminded Harry and Ron turned a red that Harry didn't think possible. "Well, it's okay, right?"

Ron nodded, his ears slowly turning normal. "I just gotta hear from Bill and Charlie. Bill's in Egypt, working for Gringotts, and Charlie's in Romania, studying dragons, so it takes a bit to get letters forth and back. I think I'm going to be spending the day in Gryff—"

They were both distracted by the fact that Draco had just left the dormitory. Ron and Harry grinned again. Draco took one look, then opened the door to his room again, as if to check he hadn't slept in the wrong house, then came back and looked up, getting a mouthful of red and gold as the confetti followed him like a dark cloud follows grumpy people in Muggle cartoons. "I _hate_ Christmas," spat Draco as he picked the red and gold specks from his hair and clothes.

Ron was snickering loudly and Harry thought it was at the horrified expression on Draco's face but then Harry noticed Draco's clothes. Ron was wearing his jumper and pyjama bottoms, Harry had on his pyjamas, having forgotten to put on his robe in the hilarity in his room. Draco, however, had taken the time to change into his school robes.

Harry couldn't resist. "Since when'd you switch to being a Gryffindor?" he asked in mock horror.

Draco glared at him and shook more confetti from his light hair. "Very funny." Then he looked down and nearly had a heart attack. His robes had changed to Gryffindor: the emblem was now a lion and the silver was now gold, the green became red. His face turned white and he started to stutter, taking his tie off with shaking hands before running back to his dormitory.

Ron was crying with laughter. "It's a spell that's surrounding the entire—oh, that's freaky," he stopped short, looking Harry in the eye. "It's a spell that's surrounding the entire common room, turning anything green into red and anything silver into gold, snakes into lions and that confetti spell worked spectacularly."

"Snakes into lions?" asked Harry, not daring to look up his sleeve.

"Sure. See the banner." Ron pointed.

Harry took a deep breath and shook his sleeve out. Two miniature lions fell out but they still had a snake's head. _"I hope you've got a good explanation!" _Hydra hissed furiously.

Ron pulled his feet up on the couch and stared at them. "What—what—?"

"The twins' spell caught them," said Harry gloomily, scooping them up. "I'll put them back in my room." He left Ron, who started to laugh again as Draco came out, his tie and robes gone, just wearing the black slacks and white shirt, with a horrible expression on his face.

Harry brushed by him, smirking, and put the two snake-lions in their box. _"I'll be back,"_ he told them but they were already snakes again and clinging onto his sleeve. They weren't the brightest.

_"We're staying,_"Heidi said when he tried to yank them off but that only made them dig their teeth in.

Harry shook his head and pulled his jumper over his head, going back into the common room and sitting beside Ron, who gave him another odd look and stood up. "I think I'm going to Gryffindor Tower. You want to come, Harry?"

Harry looked at the surly Draco pointedly but he had become suddenly very interested in the red and gold fire that looked strange and unnatural after the months of green and silver.

"Ma—Draco can come, too. The twins would love to see _you_ again." Ron smirked. "I hear you three had some fun."

Harry didn't think about it. "Yeah, sure." He looked at Draco. "You?"

"I'm coming," he said, standing up and going to his room. "I want my tie back."

Harry shook his head and look down at his jumper, which had turned a bright red, when he had another idea. He jumped up as if he'd been electrocuted and ran to the mirror. His eyes were glowing like hot coals. He was surprised Draco hadn't mentioned them when Ron had; they were quite scary-looking. Harry shuddered just as Draco came out, red and gold tie loosely around his neck and an expression that made it quite clear he didn't appreciate the twins' attempts at house unity.

Harry and Ron both snickered but Harry and Draco followed Ron up to Gryffindor Tower where Ron gave the password and they entered a common room which looked remarkably like the decorated Slytherin one they just left. It was a large, circular room with red and gold patterned paper on the walls with a Gryffindor banner and several squashy red armchairs and light wooden furniture, not at all like the dark wood of Slytherin. And, surprise, surprise, the fire wasn't charmed. There was also an arch that lead up to stairs, which looked like it went to the dormitories. Draco was trying not to be impressed but he glanced down at his tie and, satisfied at the green and silver, tightened it as if he wanted a physical indication that he was firmly Slytherin.

Harry shook his head and sat between Draco and Ron, who was talking to Fred and George. Both twins had on bright blue jumpers with large yellow letters that indicated who was who. Harry was glad: now he could tell which was which. The twins were laughing their heads off at the expression on Draco's face and the confetti still clinging to him, not to mention Ron's story.

"—you should've seen him: red eyes!" Ron was saying. "And then this proud Slytherin: mouth _full_ of the whatdoyacallit—confetti, wearing _Gryffindor_ _coloured_ robes."

Harry and the twins laughed at that one while Draco shot Harry a death-glare. "_You're_ not meant to be laughing at me," he said but he didn't sound hurt so Harry just grinned and replied with, "Why not? It was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

Then Percy came down. "What's all this noise?" he asked, wrapping paper still in one hand and a thick blue sweater in the other.

Fred jumped up and grabbed the sweater: it had a large, yellow P on it. "P for prefect!" he exclaimed, pulling it over Percy's head. "Come on, Percy, put it on! We've all got them! Even Harry has one."

"But—I—don't," said Percy thickly as his glasses were knocked sideways, hanging off one ear, his arms pinned to his sides by the Christmas sweater. If Draco was feeling put out that he was the only one without a jumper, he didn't show it; he only smiled at the prefect's rather disgusted look.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, Perce," added George. "Christmas is a time—"

"—for family!" both twins chorused.

Percy gave them both a look that made it clear he didn't like Christmas very much.

They then proceeded to frog-march Percy around Gryffindor tower, he unable to struggle, which was quite lucky for the Weasleys, Harry and Draco because it looked like Percy wanted to pick up his wand and jam it up someone's nostril the instant he was given the chance. There was no one else in the common room, which was also lucky since everyone there agreed that the three Slytherins wouldn't be welcomed very warmly.

Percy, surprisingly, didn't say anything against Harry and Draco. At least until Draco threw a snowball at his head as the twins paraded the prefect around the grounds. Then he was rather upset and a giant snow fight started, Percy unable to fight back. Another hour later they all ran to the castle, dripping, panting and trying to trip each other. Percy landed an unfortunate face-plant in deep snow by Fred and shouted into the powdery wetness that they should get him out or suffer the consequences. Fred and George yanked him up and brushed the snow off his so hard that he was knocked down again. George repaired the cracked horn-rimmed glasses while the others rolled in the snow, laughing hysterically.

They retreated to their respective rooms to change into their robes and get dry. Draco's smile only slipped when he saw the red and gold common room. The three boys changed turns to have their shower and by the time they were finished, almost another hour had passed by the time they were going into the Great Hall. Many people had left for the holidays, but all the tables still had a respectable amount of people. There were even some older Slytherins that Harry recognised as seventh years.

Ron gave both Draco and Harry a very pointed look, then at his family at the Gryffindor table. Harry raised his eyebrows and Ron just nodded, saying, "Come on, you two."

The lunch was nothing spectacular, just some turkey sandwiches and all the normal food but afterwards, the headed back outside to settle who was the better snowball-throwers: Slytherins or Gryffindors. Ron's sorting was apparently a family not-so-inside joke now. It was Gryffindors but only because while each side had a fort they were behind, Fred and George bewitched the snowballs to hit them around the wall while Percy struggled with his jumper. Besides, as Draco pointed out through a mouth full of snow, a fifth year and two third years against three first years was hardly fair. The mature response to that was Fred sticking his tongue out and grinning, sending another snowball flying with a flick of his wand.

When the sky started to darken, Fred and George suggested that they get their brooms for a few racing contests. Harry could tell that Draco wanted to say something about the Cleansweep Fives but he kept his mouth shut. They had a makeshift tournament to see who was fastest for a three lap race around the Quidditch pitch. It was rather funny to see Percy try to race Draco, who kept looking back as if to check Percy hadn't flown into the stands. Apparently that was another Weasley family joke: Percy's the only Weasley that can't fly.

Harry won that tournament as they trudged in the castle again, wet and breathless, for dinner. Once again, Ron asked Draco and Harry to sit at the Gryffindor table with him and his family.

Draco didn't even put up a fight. He sat down among all the redheaded Weasleys, beside Percy, in fact, with his back to the Slytherin table while Harry took a seat beside Ron. It was the greatest dinner Harry had ever had: a hundred fat roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce. Then there were the wizard crackers. Harry liked those. When he pulled one with Ron it didn't just pop like the feeble Muggle ones, it went off with the sound of a canon and engulfed them in a thick blue smoke. From the cracker exploded a pirate's captain's hat and several live white mice that Harry had a dreadful feeling would become Mrs. Norris's dinner.

Harry glanced up at the High Table. Professor Dumbledore had swapped his wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet and was laughing at a joke Professor Flitwick had read him. Professor McGonagall, in Harry's opinion, had a bit too much wine as she sang through carols with Hagrid, who got louder and redder with each of his mug-sized glasses of wine he drank, until he finally kissed her on the cheek which, to Harry's amazement, she giggled to and blushed in response, hiding under her new top hat's wide brim, which tipped lopsidedly.

During dessert Percy almost broke his teeth on a silver sickle in his slice and Draco on a knut. Fred and George complained so loudly that those two, who had taken first, got both coins that they went down to the other end for another pie and took their slices from there. Fred got the sickle; George the knut.

When Harry left the Gryffindor table, he had won a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. He, a little embarrassed, asked Ron and Draco if there was any difference between Muggle and wizard chess because the pieces kept muttering darkly about the fact they couldn't see in his pocket not unlike his new snakes which had been poking from his sleeve and tried to nip at his dinner. Harry had whispered to them to shut it and they retreated once the wizard crackers started to go bang.

Ron and Draco had grinned and said they'd demonstrated a game. Ron and Draco both ran down to their rooms to get their own chessmen but when they returned, only Ron had a set. Draco said he'd try to break in Harry's new ones. The set up was Muggle in nature but then both sat back and relaxed. Apparently, Draco fancied himself a grandmaster. Ron glared at his board and everyone crowded around; Ron was really good. Harry had never played before but he knew the rules and knew that Draco was in some serious hot water. Each time they made a move, they gave the orders so it was a bit like directing troops in battle and each time one was taken, the piece was smashed to bits. Fred and George took each piece and stuck the pieces back together, watching excitedly and warning Draco to not take Percy's advice, which he was giving animatedly.

A half hour later, Draco had lost many of his pieces but Ron wasn't doing much better. Harry, who had never seen a proper game of chess before, thought it was fantastic game. In the end, though, it was Draco who had won, more by luck than skill because right then George asked Ron if he wanted any Liquorice Wands and Ron made a bad move, missing Draco's knight which checkmated him.

Then Harry tried his go and preferred to take Draco's advice than Percy's, since Percy seemed to either want Ron to win very much or was just awful at chess himself. Harry thought Percy was just awful; he played him next. Harry's chessmen also didn't like him very much; they kept shouting advice at him like, "Don't send me there! Send _him_!" which was getting rather annoying and, in the end, Draco was more helpful. Ron's chessmen had, like everyone he owned, once belonged to someone else—here, his grandfather but his chessmen liked him and did what he wanted them to do. Harry still lost in a matter of ten minutes because after five minutes of Draco helping Percy sourly pointed out that was cheating so, really, he lost in just five minutes.

Later that night, a platter appeared on a table that was filled with more turkey sandwiches, cake, crumpets and trifle. Fred and George also left for an hour while Ron and Draco were taking turns beating Percy to smithereens at chess. When they came back, their arms were overfilling with sweets and chocolates and marshmallows that they had fun spearing on picks and roasting them on the fire and eating the sweets and chocolates. Fred and George gave renditions of some of their funnier adventures, making them all laugh, and Percy's ears turned red when they mentioned that they had changed his prefect badge and his marshmallow caught on fire.

Then when Fred left again, he headed up the stairs to what Harry imagined were the Gryffindor dormitories. He returned with a shiny, red and gold badge, waving it smugly. "Percy! You missing something?"

Percy turned around and adjusted his glasses to see better. Then his eyes shot open and he ran after Fred, who gladly kept running around the Tower, up and down the stairs. George joined in, catching it from a balcony near the dormitories. Everyone was too tired to do anything else besides watching Percy chase the twins. Then Ron started to nod off against his chair, holding his pillow close, and Draco was looking like he was getting close to doing the same.

Harry was about to get up and tell the Gryffindors that they were going to leave when Draco drawled, "It's two in the morning, Harry. We'll be caught."

Harry leaned back again when he felt the bulge in his back pocket. The Invisibility Cloak. He pulled it out when the twins and Percy were dashing through the dormitories. Draco's eyes shot open. "Of course..." he muttered, standing up. He went over and shook Ron awake. "Hey, Ron, come on. You can sleep in our common room," he whispered. Ron sat bolt upright, shouting something about tap-dancing spiders. He didn't even say anything as Harry threw the Cloak over the three of them and they eased the portrait open, too sleepy to really know what was going on. When they got back to the Slytherin common room, Ron just collapsed back on the couch. Harry shook him awake this time, guiding him to his room. Harry and Draco didn't even bother changing into their pyjamas again. Harry pried the snakes off and put them into their box, shutting the lid.

"That was the best Christmas I've ever had," said Harry as soon as he fell onto his bed.

He had to already be asleep because a second later he thought he heard Draco say, "Me, too."

\ \ / /

**Just a few words about Narcissa. She's a character I like (yes, I actually do) and think I'm going to have some fun with later. The fact that, for us, her defining character trait is that she cares for nothing more than her family and their survival. She enjoys the almost aristocratic part the House of Black and her husband's Death-Eater-but-rich-and-influential-man status gives them, but at the end of the day, I think she'd give up all that for her family's survival. If you've got books 6 and 7, go and read her bits. She's also, to non-Muggleborns, a pretty caring person. **

**Something I'm **_really_** looking forward to writing is Draco during the summer holidays, which you will see. See ya.**


	20. Caught in the Act

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter.

**/watch?v=RWtrBg-GbUQ**

**I think this is also a bit long and a bit of a mix-match of a bunch things I had to add. In short, this is a huge filler. I also looked back and realized I hadn't included the Nimbus 2000. Yes, stupid me. I'm also adjusting the chapter order so that the prologue isn't chapter one, that it's combined with the actual first chapter.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY: CAUGHT IN THE ACT**

_Living doesn't come first try  
__It takes a lifetime getting it right  
__It takes a lifetime to learn how to sing  
__To find my place in the world's symphony  
__- Kris Allen_ "Lifetime"

Harry could be found many a night in front of the Mirror of Erised, either by himself or with Draco, who had also taken to asking to borrow to Cloak to go by himself. Either way, Harry would never take the cold silver snakes; they were rather clingy. Harry would just be sitting on the hard, cold ground and staring up at the magic Mirror, letting the painful love and want flow through him in a great warmth. The Cloak thrown over his shoulders, Harry would always be ready in case footsteps sounded.

One night, the night he truly needed the Cloak, he had left it at the entrance, eager to see his family. There was nothing, nothing at all to stop him from staying there every night except...

"Back again, Harry?"

Harry almost shot out of his skin at the kind voice. Behind him, perched on the corner of the desk, was Albus Dumbledore, smiling slightly at him.

Keeping an even tone, Harry said, "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore's smile grew wider. "So," he said, slipping off the desk to sit beside Harry on the floor, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

Harry looked back up at his parents and Draco. "Yes, sir," he said heavily.

"I expect you've realised by now what it does?" asked Dumbledore.

"It—well, it shows me my family and—" Harry scrambled for words, trying to explain.

"It shows the family you wish you had," offered Dumbledore.

Harry nodded, not bothering to ask how Dumbledore knew. If he had been there, he must've had some sort of spell to see what Harry saw.

"And it showed your friend Draco with the family he wished _he_ had."

Harry frowned. Draco said it was Theo, Blaise, him and Harry before everything. "But—?"

"People change and sometimes the strongest awakening comes when you stand up and wait to see who will stand with you," said Dumbledore with another smile. "I don't need a cloak to become invisible," he added when Harry was about to ask him how he'd known that. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry thought for a moment. "It shows—it shows what we—_want_?" he asked hesitantly. "What we wish would happen? No matter it's possibility?"

"Yes and no," answered Dumbledore. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never had a proper family, see the ideal one standing around you. Draco Malfoy, who has been rejected by his family, sees himself standing with what he sees as his. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask neither you nor Draco to go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put on that admirable Cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry, still digesting Dumbledore's words, stood up and said, "Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," said Dumbledore, smiling. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?" asked Harry in a rush.

Dumbledore made no motion to stand up, only smiling as though it was a very good question. "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."

Harry scrutinized him.

"One can never have enough socks," Dumbledore said. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People with insist on giving me books."

Harry threw the Cloak over his shoulders and headed back to the dungeons. He was saying the password when he realized that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. It was quite a question, he thought. Rather personal. Harry cast his thoughts around for something Professor Dumbledore could want and they settled on "family". It was, after all, what Harry and Draco had seen and Harry couldn't remember hearing of any kind of sibling or children. But then again, he thought as he crawled back into bed, perhaps Dumbledore just had very holey socks.

\ \ / /

Dumbledore took one last look at his sister, brother and parents before returning to his office. He was still marvelling at Harry's Sorting, and not in a good way. Dumbledore had expected Harry to be Sorted into Gryffindor like his parents—James had, in fact, been Sorted the instant the Hat touched his messy black hair, Lily had taken a bit longer but Dumbledore suspected it was for her friendship for Severus.

He had watched the Sorting with an anxiety that had been steadily increasing. Dumbledore had checked and triple-checked everything but he still wasn't sure if the Horcrux aspect of Harry could possess him by itself or it needed a Voldemort with a body out there. He wasn't sure if the part of Harry that was Tom Riddle could subtly influence him or take outright control him.

The Hat screaming, "SLYTHERIN!" hardly did anything for Dumbledore's nerves. He swore he felt his blood pressure rise fifty points. Now, there wasn't anything specific about which house Harry was in, but being in Slytherin, where the traits were so much easier turned towards Dark means, when he had a suspicion that he might be possessed by the most evil Dark wizard for a century was certainly something to worry about. The Sorting Hat couldn't even tell Dumbledore if there was anything in Harry's mind; it couldn't even talk about another.

Dumbledore couldn't deny Harry had the Slytherin traits of determination, cunning and resourcefulness without exhibiting any Dark or cruel nature like Tom had as a young boy. But that didn't mean that the strength of the possession couldn't change. Additionally, when Dumbledore had briefly looked through Harry's eyes and seen what he had observed in the Mirror: his parents, the image also, rather surprisingly and comfortingly, included Draco Malfoy.

Voldemort couldn't be controlling him then, thought Dumbledore. Someone filled with that sort of love and willing to exercise that kind of reckless bravery to see it couldn't be manipulated by Tom Riddle—he hoped.

Dumbledore resolved to keep a closer eye on the boy.

\ \ / /

The holidays ended far too soon for either Harry or Draco. The start of term, however, brought something much more welcome than being forced to wake up at six-thirty again: Hermione, fresh back from skiing.

Apparently, she had a cousin who wasn't too talented on the, as Draco called them, "Muggle sticks" and had faceplanted many times. They exchanged Christmas stories and she was fascinated by the Transfigured and Charmed snakes the boys had gotten, as well as bursting into giggles at Draco's face when Ron had told the tale of the Slytherin common room's redecoration. Hermione had also poked and prodded the Invisibility Cloak, while Ron experimented in front of a mirror.

Harry and Draco, along with Ron and Hermione, had visited "Fluffy" several times, looking and checking to make sure it was still in place because, they figured, as long as it was there and growling, Quirrell hadn't gotten whatever it was. Several times they were almost caught or, on one memorable occasion, caught by McGonagall who was about to land them all in detention when Quirrell came around and said, in his usual trembling voice, "I-It's o-o-only na-natural, Min-Minerva, for ch-children to b-b-b-b curious. Run-run al-al-along, now." They all took his advice and booked it.

Draco and Harry had considered taking Hermione and Ron to the Mirror of Erised but that reminded Harry of Professor Dumbledore's warning; he told Draco and, very reluctantly, both agreed to not go back. They did introduce both Hermione and Ron to Hagrid, though, in mid February.

A great fire was burning inside, making the cabin as hot as a summer day and melting the snow from their hair. He was already making a cup of tea for himself and set out a plate of rock-cakes that no one touched and another four mugs, pouring the boiling water and adding the tea bags.

"Another Weasley, eh?" asked Hagrid as he shook Ron's entire arm. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest. Lately, I've been seein' another redhead near them trees—is that yeh?"

Draco nearly choked on the tea. Ron blushed but nodded. "We just wanted to see inside."

Hagrid laughed at that. "Fred an' George have seen it 'undreds o' times. 'Specially in their first year."

Then, seeing Hermione still standing near the door, Hagrid grinned and shook her arm thoroughly.

"Hermione Granger," she said shakily, still taking in Hagrid's size. Seeing it as you got off the train was one thing, spending time with a man this large was quite another. Harry had a suspicion she was remembering the Muggle story _Jack and the Beanstalk._

"Eh?" asked Hagrid. "McGonagall's very proud of yeh, she is. Brightest witch in yer year, she tells me."

Hermione blushed at least as deeply as Ron. She muttered something about it just being practise before finding something out the window very interesting.

Seeing her embarrassment, Hagrid went back to Ron. "So, how's yer brother Charlie? Loved him, great with animals. How's he handling the dragons?"

"He gets awful burns," said Ron conversationally. "Seventh degree from the wild ones like a Horntail—they're nasty things."

Hagrid frowned at that. "They're tameable, though."

"Well, sure, they are," said Draco in a wary tone. "Your spine will tame it as a good chew toy until it spits out the bones. And they're illegal."

"Dragon breeding was outlawed by the—" started Hermione excitedly, back in her comfort zone when Draco looked into the fire and gasped loud enough for her to stop.

"Hagrid!" he exclaimed, still staring at the fire. "You didn't!"

Ron followed his gaze as did Harry and Hermione. In the fire was a large, black egg larger than an ostrich's.

"Well, er—" Hagrid started awkwardly.

"Is that—" started Ron, his eyes wide.

"You've _got_ to be kidding!" said Hermione shrilly.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

Everyone looked at him as though he were very stupid.

"I get it's a dragon egg," he said, rather sharper than he meant to. "What species—breed, whatever, what is it?"

"A Norwegian Ridgeback," said Hagrid proudly. "I've got it all here." He rummaged around in his sheets, eventually pulling out a book. "_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_," he said. "It's a bit outta date but it's got it all. Keep it in the fire, then, when it hatches, feed it a bucket o' brandy with chicken blood ev'ry half hour."

"You're mental," said Draco grimly. "You've officially lost it. Oh, I forgot: thanks for the chocolate." Harry snorted. Draco had finished that in about twenty minutes.

Hagrid waved a giant hand and started to stroke the fire. "Forget 'bout it."

Hermione had other worries. "Dragons breath fire," she said very clearly, as though he thought Hagrid was very slow. "You live in a _wooden house._"

"Whatdoya think of the name 'Norbert'?" he asked thoughtfully.

They all exchanged a look.

"Good name for a dragon," said Ron at last. "Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback. _What_?" he defended as he was now given the look. "It _is _a good name. I know Charlie's used it for a Swedish Short-Snout—no, wait, _that_ one was Sabina. It was the Hebridean Black that he christened Norbert... or was it Bertha?"

\ \ / /

Harry had more to worry about than a dragon and three-headed dog. The exams loomed nearer and nearer and his Quidditch trainings were becoming a sort of thrice-weekly torture. Flint, even though quite taken with his Seeker abilities, was very hesitant and scared that they would lose their next match against Hufflepuff. If they won this one, they'd take the Cup for the sixth year in a row (Snape was even refereeing, much to Hermione's scepticism) but their star player had an awful broom.

Harry was riding an old Shooting Star, the best broom the school had, and was rather shocked he had out-flown Vicky Frobisher. She rode a Moontrimmer, but even so, everyone agreed Harry needed a new broom before they played Hufflepuff. Diggory flew a Comet Two-Sixty, not the best but defiantly passing a Shooting Star.

And that was why the day of a match he was staring at his breakfast in a very disappointed way as wriggly things crawled in his stomach, giving him a very bad, cynical mood.

"You've gotta eat something," said Hermione.

"I'm not hungry," said Harry tonelessly.

"Eat, Harry," said Flint as he passed by, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "If not, then Diggory'll just have to nudge you into the stands and you'll go down. Don't wanna see_that_ happen—unless you catch the Snitch first, of course." He left, following his team. Harry glared after him.

Draco came in the Great Hall and sat down beside Harry, looking very smug.

"Where'd you go?" asked Ron, between bites of scrambled egg.

"Yeah, we were _dying_ without you," said Harry, poking at his porridge with a spoon.

Draco gave him a look but only said, "You'll see."

Ten minutes later, they did. The mail flew in and hundreds of owls found their owners, dropping packages and letters. Draco's owl flew down and dropped a long, thin package in front of them.

Ron dropped his fork with a clatter and stared at the package. "That—_broomstick_!" he said in awe.

"Yep," said Draco.

Harry tore off the wrappings and a mahogany broom rolled out. It had neat, straight twigs and Harry felt as though he could faint as he read the gold lettering at the top. "Nimbus Two Thousand?" he read.

"Yep."

Hermione had other problems. "First years aren't allowed—"

"You're just jealous because Slytherin'll win the Cup now," said Ron. "Can I just _touch_ the broom, Harry?"

Harry, very reluctantly, let Ron hold it.

"I settled it with Professor Snape. Blimey, he wants Slytherin to win more than—well," said Draco calmingly, "more than he dislikes Harry."

Harry snorted and took the broom back, admiring it. "He hates me."

"He hates Gryffindor much more," countered Draco. "That's the best broom out there."

Harry felt his jaw drop as he looked at the clock. "Te-ten minutes. I've gotta go."

With that, he ran from the Great Hall, the others calling that they'd find good seats. So far, Hermione was a bit torn between Slytherin and Gryffindor but since she didn't really care about the wizarding sport, she cheered for her friends. Draco found that very amusing even though he was yelling at least twice as loud as her.

Harry, his new broom balanced over his shoulder, wandered into the Slytherin tents and managed to get changed without anyone asking anything. Then the Keeper, Miles Bletchley, dropped the gloves he was putting on. "Potter... what broom is that?"

"Nimbus Two Thousand," said Harry proudly. Everyone turned around and the Slytherin team ended up being late; they were admiring the broom too much.

After the game started, Harry ended up looping around the stands a bit too much, the Slytherins and Hermione yelling. But he did have to get a handle on the new broom. It was a dream to fly; it turned at the slightest touch and was faster than anything Harry had ever flown. When he noticed a canary yellow player diving quickly, though, Harry realized he was in hot water: Diggory had seen the Snitch.

After urging his broom on, it shot forward like a rocket. Harry kept himself flat against it and caught up even quicker than he expected. He outstretched his hand and watched Diggory pull sharply from the dive, only to hover over him and shoot in front. Harry knew what he did was very stupid but he couldn't resist. He levelled himself with Diggory and slammed him as hard as he could. Diggory spun off course and flew into the stands.

Harry felt his fingers close over the struggling golden ball. He had caught it. The crowds roared and the yellow and black, as well as the other house colours, were charmed by an older year Slytherin, clearly not forgetting the legendary Christmas prank, into being green and silver. He also thought he saw Snape's mouth turning into a horrible smile.

_They had won. _Relief and joy washed over Harry but then he realised he was too close to the ground. His foot caught in the sand near the Hufflepuff goalposts and spun him head over heels. The last thing Harry saw was the tall, metal pole coming alarmingly close.

\ \ / /

"Fantastic capture! We're in the lead now!"

"Honestly, Draco, do you care about anything else? Your best friend was just knocked unconscious by a pole!"

"That's hardly a nice way to put it, 'Mione."

"He's looking a bit pale, isn't he?"

"_Pale_? He smashed into a goalpost from a flying broomstick; I'm surprised he hasn't gotten brain damage."

Harry wished the voices would shut up. His ears were ringing and his head felt three times its normal size. "I thought you were the one with brain damage," he muttered, recognising the voices.

The smiling faces of Draco, Hermione and Ron cleared as Harry put on his glasses. His face felt as though he had run headlong into a brick wall. He flexed his muscles and felt something near his eyes tense. He tried to sit up but stars seemed to appear in the Hospital Wing. Thinking that wasn't very good, he put a hand to his head and lay back down. Soon, the faint sunlight trailing in through the windows was the brightest thing and the loudest sound was their voices.

"You all right?" asked Hermione in a would be quiet voice. "Madam Pomfrey fixed the glasses but didn't want to try anything on you until you... well, woke up."

"Maybe we should shut up," suggested Ron.

"Yeah, just maybe," said Harry, closing his eyes.

"Just maybe," repeated Ron.

Harry felt his face stretch into its own grin.

"That was a great game," said Draco. "You should've seen Diggory's face when he woke up."

"He was unconscious, too," said Hermione with a disapproving look taking over the smile. "You shouldn't have done that, Harry."

"You mental?" asked Ron faintly. "That was _brilliant_."

"Flint thought it was fantastic," said Draco. "The team's still being bombarded by Diggory. He wanted to make sure you're all right but there's only three visitors at a time."

"Feel bad for him, Flint, I mean," said Ron, laughing.

Hermione still looked as though she wanted to smile but knew it was wrong. "You were great," she said as all the boys looked at her.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over. "Come on, come on, Potter. What _have_ you been doing?" she barked, bringing over a goblet of some horrid smelling drink that she thrust into his hands. With a wave of her wand, the tenseness vanished from his face. Harry had a feeling his glasses had embedded shattered glass and metal in his face. "A hit like that—it's a miracle you didn't cave your head it," she huffed impatiently. "Take this his in case anything _did_ go wrong in that head of yours."

Harry uneasily drank it and almost spat it back out. A few seconds later he felt as though he could run a marathon. "You think I could have some of that to-go?"

She gave him a look and snatched the goblet back. "No. You can leave."

Harry jumped out of bed and Ron handed him the broom with an odd look on his face. "You wanna have a go?"

Ron's face lit up and he started to go to the Quidditch Pitch. Harry noticed Draco was also giving the same sort of look. "Yeah, you can try it. Go on," he coaxed as they stepped onto the smooth, sloping grass of the pitch.

Ron took it and soared above and below, looping around and through the rings, all with a shout of happiness. "This is fantastic!"

Draco did much the same thing but this time, Hermione came back with another two brooms from the training cupboard. They were older and slower, but Harry recognised them as some of the better school brooms. She grinned at the sports-obsessed boys before handing Ron and Harry the brooms. Another half dozen races later, the three of them landed in front of a still-smiling Hermione.

"That's great," said both Ron and Draco.

Harry waved a hand and offered to put the school brooms back before returning to the common room. They knew there'd be some sort of party for demolishing Hufflepuff. Harry planned on getting Hermione in and Draco and Ron had no issues with her. She didn't even make an excuse for studying, still smiling. Harry knew that there weren't really that many Slytherins who were supremacists; many of the older students weren't, growing out of it and creating a mind for themselves, but he wouldn't put it past many of the younger years to mock and scorn the Muggle-born.

Harry had opened the cupboard when he saw a hooded figure running across the grounds, quickly and often looking behind him, clearly not wanting to be followed. What...? He returned the brooms and mounted his own, trailing the figure silently. He went into the Forbidden Forest, at a run. Harry now recognised it was Snape. What was he doing while everyone, except the celebrating Slytherins, was at dinner?

Snape stopped at last in a shadowy clearing, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was also there. Harry felt a chill go up his spine. There was one reason they had never considered: could, possibly, Snape be working _with_ Quirrell? Harry perched himself in a tree and tried to make out Quirrell's face. He couldn't see it but his stuttering sent another shiver down Harry's spine as he heard the two wizards speak.

"... d-don't know wh-why you w-w-w-wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-p-p-places, S-S-S-Severus..." His voice wasn't cold but the stuttering idiot he was before and Harry would bet his was trembling. Why would he be putting up an act in front of Snape? Unless he knew Harry was watching. Harry moved to obscure his face by the tall branches and swallowed.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape in his usual icy tone. Maybe they had gotten it wrong, thought Harry. Maybe Snape was working _against _Quirrell, trying to steal "seven hundred and thirteen" himself and Quirrell was simply shocked into being a braver person, the stuttering gone. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all," he continued silky.

Harry committed the name to memory. Philosopher's Stone. He leaned forward, trying to see Quirrell's face better; he was mumbling.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" interrupted Snape cuttingly.

"B-b-b-but, Severus, I—" started Quirrell but Snape cut across him again.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, advancing menacingly.

"I-I-I-I don't know w-w-what you m-m—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, almost making Harry fall from his tree. He steadied himself quickly and caught Snape's voice again.

"—your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-b-b-but I d-d-d-don't—"

"Very well," snapped Snape with such venom that Quirrell actually flinched. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He pulled up his hood and started to run back to the castle. Harry could still see Quirrell, standing there, trembling in the faint light, wringing his hands frightfully.

Harry left and flew straight to the castle, beating Snape by quite a bit. He had forgotten to change but the common room was almost in the aftermath of a bomb. Green and silver confetti (in snakes and squares, respectively) rained down on the team, who was being raised on the shoulders of the other seventh years. Food and drink was standing on a large table, normally reserved for homework, but now covered with dishes and bottles.

Harry was about to go to Ron, Hermione and Draco, who were somewhere in the centre of it all, being demanded where the Seeker was, when someone picked up Harry and was balanced on another's shoulders. Oh, well. He'd wait until this screaming lot calmed down, for they were shouting quite loud, singing some song that sounded like a Slytherin theme.

Flint was patting him on the leg; the highest place he could reach. Harry balanced awkwardly on Derrik's and Chase's shoulders as some fourth year started singing another song that sounded as though he had made it up on the spot.

_"Oh, Potter, you... otter,_

_You're winning us Quidditch,_

_You're great on the pitch,_

_You'll get us the Snitch,_

_Before the other—"_

"Whoa, Latner!" someone shouted. "Language!"

That broke out a fresh round of laughter as they noticed he had a bottle of... something in his hand, but, judging from his next slurred words, Harry didn't think it was pumpkin juice.

When Harry was finally let down he found himself thumped on the back, congratulated and almost swarmed in cheers and hugs. Slytherin had won the Cup, or been a sure-fire win for it, for seven years. The eighth was something rather big and now they would win with the famous Harry Potter.

He made it over to his friends and said breathlessly, "I've got to talk to you."

Their smiles fell slightly.

"Later," said Harry wearily as the party continued.

Harry expected another half hour, an hour at most. Not so much. The cheering Slytherins partied late into the night, only stopping when Snape came to interrupt. "Mr. Flint," said Snape silkily, his face arranged in pure fury. Every noise from everyone stopped instantly and smiles disappeared. Harry and Draco shoved Hermione behind them, blocking her from view. Snape ignored the confetti falling on his robes and hair. "Bed. _Now_."

There was a mad scramble and Harry was pleased to note that even the other Slytherins were scared of Snape. Harry pulled Hermione forward and took her into their room, dragging Ron and Draco behind him. The three of them ducked in as Harry held the door open. They crammed in, Hermione and Ron sitting on Draco's and Harry's trunks.

They started to discuss when they'd let Hermione and Ron go to their proper rooms, but when they took one look on Harry's face they stopped talking.

"Right," said Ron, "what did you want to say earlier?"

Harry told them about Snape and Quirrell's meeting in the Forest. "Don't you see?" he said when he was finished. "Snape and Quirrell weren't trying to _stop_ each other from stealing the Stone, they were _working_ _together_ to get it, but Quirrell is having second thoughts about working with him."

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione. She had been frowning at him in disapproval, probably from suggesting a teacher wasn't perfect. She also looked like she would like to kick herself; she must've heard of the Philosopher's Stone in a book five inches thick. "Maybe—I mean, it sounds more like Snape was trying to figure out how far Quirrell had gotten. There must be a bunch more things protecting the Stone."

Ron looked at her as though she were mad. "No, Snape was trying to get Quirrell to help _him _get the Stone and Quirrell is trying to be brave and suck it up."

"What about you, Draco?" asked Harry impatiently. "What do you think?"

He had been silent the entire time, only rolling his eyes when Harry said the Philosopher's Stone. "I think," he started thoughtfully, "that Snape and Quirrell are each trying to get the Stone individually and Snape is trying to force Quirrell to help him." It looked like it cost him a lot to say that, and Harry remembered that he was quite close to Snape.

"What's the Philosopher's Stone, anyways?" asked Ron.

"It's a rock made by Nicholas Flamel over six hundred years ago that can turn any metal into pure gold," said Hermione, sounding as though, even on a topic that wasn't school related, she'd swallowed a book. Harry wouldn't be surprised if she was unintentionally quoting. "It will also create the Elixir of Life, which'll make the drinker immortal."

"Immortality and money," said Ron in awe. "No wonder they both want it. Hell, _I'd_ steal it."

Draco groaned. "So, the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" he asked in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron grimly. "I'd better be going," he added in a much more cheerful voice. "Goodnight." He stood up and left, presumably going to his room. That made Harry wonder who he was rooming with; he'd ask him later.

Hermione sat very still, looking quite awkward.

Harry, however, was digging through his trunk for something. He pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Hermione hesitantly. "You should head back to Gryffindor Tower." He looked pointedly at the two beds. "I don't think you'd like to sleep here."

She smiled and threw the Cloak over her. "I'll give it to you tomorrow." She pulled it over her head and she disappeared. A moment passed before the handle of the door clicked down and swung open, with no one there. It looked rather strange.

Draco and Harry took a long time to go to sleep, discussing the Stone and the professors' attempts to steal it. Eventually, they both fell asleep but both boys had dreams full of glowing rocks and hook-nosed teachers and men in turbans.

\ \ / /

**Few notes. Dumbledore knew what Harry was seeing due to some cleverly used Legilimency. The Slytherins are grudgingly allowing Hermione in because they're fully aware that if Harry "decides" to stop winning, they're going to lose the Cup. My chapters seem to be getting longer and longer...**

**Hope you liked it! Now, click that little button right below that you know you wanna!**


	21. Dragon

**Disclaimer:** see another chapter.

**/watch?v=hfz6hZb18GQ**

**Right, sorry I haven't updated in a long time but, for this story, I'm losing inspiration. I'll stick with it and WILL finish it but, if I can't get ideas for new, non-canon things then it'll take a while and be, more or less, follow canon story line with little deviation. **

**So, any things you'd like to see in here?**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: DRAGONS**

_Over high seas and mountains _  
_We fly to the heavens _  
_On wings of a dragon tonight _  
_Proud and so glorious, standing the four of us  
__- Dragonforce _"Heart of a Dragon"

Hermione delivered. In the middle of the crowded corridors, she handed the Cloak back to Harry, who stuffed it hurriedly in his bag. Who knew when they might need it again? And with Hagrid and his dragon egg, they really didn't. The egg was always in the firepit, flames leaping around it. Harry wasn't looking forward to seeing how fast it grew.

Ron was apparently still a little in shock that Hagrid had gotten a dragon's egg, and, to tell the truth, so was Harry. It was a bit suspicious, wasn't it, that Hagrid just won a dragon egg when he wants one? It was a bit suspicious but Harry pushed it to the back of his mind. There were more important things, after all, as Hermione reminded them all as they studied in the library again.

"Exams are ages away," complained Ron.

"Ten weeks!" she said, sounding slightly hysterical as she lifted books, looking for her Potions notes. "That's like a second to Nicholas Flamel!"

"We aren't six hundred, though," said Draco as he flipped through a Charms book without any interest. "Let's take a little break, huh?"

"I can't!" said Hermione, sounding scandalized. "These exams decide if we can graduate to second year! Do you understand what happens if we _fail?"_

So, much to their dismay, Harry, Ron and Draco found themselves spending outrageous amounts of time studying and reviewing complicated Transfiguration diagrams and instructions to complex potions—whether they needed it or not. To Harry's great surprise, Potions was fast becoming his best subject but he found he was doing almost as well as Hermione in a few other classes, namely Transfiguration and Charms. Ron, they were finding, needed a lot of help and Hermione, who was top of their year, freaking out over exams did absolutely nothing for his own nerves, which George had assured was the only thing wrong with him, before Fred came around and said that Ron's flying skills weren't exactly "right" either.

Unfortunately, the teachers were thinking along the same lines as Hermione and refused to sympathize with every student who didn't want to study—which was everyone except Hermione. The teachers piled on so much work that Harry was sure he'd be in his seventh year before it was all finished. The Easter holidays weren't as fun as the Christmas ones, which were mostly due to the homework load and Hermione revising everything verbally as though she had the audio tape of every textbook in her, playing on a loop. Harry felt her every word was, by now, etched on the inside of his skull.

Harry, on more than one occasion, retired to the Slytherin common room to escape her, Ron and Draco hurrying behind him. But, even though less work-crazy than Hermione, the Slytherins were hardly making the atmosphere more relaxing. The fifth- and seventh-years were studying in corners, their noses inches from books and parchment, reciting things feverishly.

"OWLs and NEWTs," Draco explained. "End-of-the-year exams."

"They're super-important," said Ron. "They decide jobs and stuff. I remember Charlie saying that the British Dragon Keeper Society didn't want to take him because he only got an 'E' in Care for Magical Creatures. That's why he got the job in Romania."

"Charlie," said Harry suddenly. "Do you think _he_ could get Hagrid to see sense? With Norbert?" he added quickly.

"I dunno," said Ron. "I doubt he'd get off work; he's got some mates, though, that fly from Greenland to Romania a lot, bringing new species and stuff."

"Let's find him, then," said Harry, standing up. "Shall we get Hermione?"

"Er—it's kinder to let her study," said Draco apprehensively.

Reluctantly, Ron and Draco followed him down the grounds to Hagrid's hut. "Hagrid!" shouted Harry, banging on the door. "We gotta talk to you."

The door opened and Hagrid's face appeared in the crack before he saw them, and he opened the door fully. "What are yeh doin' here?" he asked, setting about making a cup of tea.

"The dragon," said Ron, sitting down quickly to avoid being bowled over by Fang. "Charlie's got some friends I want you to talk to; dragon experts who can tell you how—"

"I'm not gettin' rid o' Norbert," said Hagrid flatly. "And that's that."

"Would you prefer we talk about Nicholas Flamel?" asked Draco innocently, taking a sip of tea as Hagrid placed a plate of rock cakes in the center of the table.

Hagrid almost dropped his own mug. "'Arry," he said. "Yeh told 'em."

"They're my friends," said Harry defensively.

"And we know what's in the third floor corridor, besides a massive dog," said Ron proudly, "the Philosopher's Stone!"

At this, Hagrid dropped his mug which broke on the floor. "How'd yeh find out 'bout that?"

Starting to feel guilty they hadn't brought Hermione, too, Harry said truthfully, "We—I overheard a teacher talking about it. He said that there were other things guarding it; any idea what they might be?"

Draco cast him a look that plainly said, "He's not _that_ stupid."

Hagrid puffed himself up. "I wouldn't tell yeh even if I did know—and I don'—yeh lot know too much."

"Who _did_ the guarding, then?" asked Draco quickly. "Who did it besides you? Who did Dumbledore—_trust_ enough to help guard such an important and powerful object?"

Hagrid half-smiled. "Well, there isn't any 'arm in tellin' yeh _that_. There was Professor Sprout, then Professor Flitwick"—he ticked them off his fingers—"and Professor McGonagall, then Quirrell did a lil' somethin', and Dumbledore did his bit last—hold on, I'm forgettin' someone. Snape! Yeah, Professor Snape did something."

"Snape?" asked Ron, Harry and Draco at the same time.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, looking from one to the other. "Yeh might not be his favourite student, 'Arry, but he isn't _evil_."

"You try Double Potions when he wants to poison you," muttered Ron, who got the worst of Snape, no matter what Draco tried.

Harry shrugged at that; during the last class, when he had gotten an "E" for his potion while Draco's wasn't any better, and he got an "O", Snape had gritted his teeth hard and walked by his cauldron, saying something that sounded like, "You clearly take after your mother," something Harry was deciding to take as a compliment.

"So, a potion, a Transfiguration, a Charm, a plant"—Draco snorted—"an Anti-Dark Arts thingy, and the superpower of _love_?" repeated Draco, scoffing. "Wow, he sure is going all out to protect it."

Hagrid frowned sternly at him. "The power o' love can do wonders, yeh know."

Draco shook his head and smiled, clearly not believing Hagrid. "Sure."

Ron looked at the egg uneasily. "Uh, Hagrid? Is it meant to be clicking like that?"

Hagrid jumped up. "Oooh, it's ready."

"Ready for _what?"_ asked Harry, who was ready to duck under the table if the egg wanted to explode.

But Hagrid lifted it out of the fire and placed it on the table, crushing the rock cakes. The odd ticking noise accelerated, becoming louder and faster.

Draco stared at it, torn between awe and fear. Ron looked as though he would like to run away. Harry kept glancing at the door, hoping that Hermione would come through it. But she didn't.

"It'll take a few hours," said Ron, standing up. "We'd love to stay here, Hagrid," he added as Hagrid's face fell, "but we've got exams to study for, you know."

Hagrid nodded his great head. "Sure, 'course I know. Yeh come back and see Norbert hatch, though?"

"Yeah, of course," said Draco as they filed out of Hagrid's hut. "Then we'll take a sledgehammer and—"

"We should go find Hermione," said Harry loudly. "Come on, maybe if we help her she'll get over her exam nerves."

"Rather you than me," said Ron grimly as they marched back to the castle to find Hermione in a state of considerable panic over mountains of notes and books in the Great Hall.

Ron threw Harry a look that said, "I told you so." But Harry just continued to try to help her as she skimmed the History of Magic notes so fast the words were blurring.

**\ \ / /**

Hermione found the dragon-hatching to be fascinating but flatly refused to give up her revision time so they ended up returning to Hagrid's hut during dinner.

"Couldn't we wait until after supper?" complained Draco as they left the Great Hall. "I mean, we're hungry, right?"

Ron and Harry nodded.

"We have exams coming up," said Hermione briskly, "and we're going to see, hopefully for the first and last time, a dragon hatch so—"

"Shut it," hissed Draco suddenly.

Blaise was right behind them and had stopped dead to listen. The smirk and look on his face wasn't something Harry, Ron, Hermione nor Draco liked. Harry frowned in disbelief; could Blaise really still carry that grudge?

But the four of them still ran down the grounds to Hagrid's. After they squeezed into the room, they all saw the cracked egg was rocking back and forth as the clicking continued.

"Uh, Hagrid?" asked Harry uneasily, prepared to duck again, should shards of shell start flying. "When will it—?"

But his question was answered as the egg exploded like the bomb image it was giving off. Shells flew into all corners of the room and the gooey substance on the inside flew into their faces as they bent over it, a large creature that, to Harry, looked like a crumpled black umbrella stumbled out onto the table, slipping on the bits of shell on the table as it looked around at the four humans and giant.

Harry felt something he hadn't for a while: the silver snakes had been hissing and curving up his arm in fright. Harry thought he had gotten them calmed down, although they still refused to let him leave without them.

"Beau'iful, isn't he?" asked Hagrid, reaching out a hand to the baby dragon. Harry didn't think so but didn't say anything.

Norbert sneezed and a jet of fire came through his mouth, sparks flying from his nose. He snapped at Hagrid's hand, showing pointed fangs, its tiny ears folding back like a cat's.

"Bless him, he knows him mommy!" exclaimed Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione slowly, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow exactly?"

Ron's groan was answer enough. Hagrid was about to say something when he stood up abruptly and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?" asked Draco, keeping his eyes on the dragon, who had smoke rolling from both nostrils.

"Someone was looking through the window," Hagrid said, "it's a kid, running back up ter the school."

Harry and the others ran to the window.

"Yeh know him?" asked Hagrid, stepping back.

"Wish I didn't," said Draco darkly.

Draco was right; even at this distance there was no mistaking that dark head. Blaise had seen the dragon.

**\ \ / /**

The grin that was on Zabini's face for the following week did nothing for Harry, Ron, Draco or Hermione in the nerves department. They spent much of the time with Hagrid, trying to convince him to set Norbert free but there was no hope. He flatly refused, being reminiscent of Hermione on the topic of giving up revision time.

Within a week, Norbert had grown several feet in length and took so much of Hagrid's time that he hadn't done anything besides take care of the baby dragon. There were chicken feathers and empty brandy bottles littering the floor and scorch marks on the table.

Ron had taken desperate measures and wrote to Charlie, asking him to send word about Norbert to his friends. Charlie had done one better than that.

One day, Hedwig had swooped down with a letter in her beak, landing in front of Ron. "It's Charlie," he said as he skimmed the letter. "Brilliant!"

"What?" asked Draco, taking the letter and grinning. "Thank Merlin. I'm not doing another Norbert feeding." He handed it to Harry.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Nice sorting, by the way. Thanks for the letter—I could ask Mark and Antony to talk to Hagrid but I doubt that. I could take care of the Norwegian Ridgeback here, in Romania, and ask Mark and Antony to send him over. Yes, I think that'll be the best thing for both dragon and Hagrid. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon; all the legal ones have tags and it's impossible to magick the tags._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up to the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

"We've got the Cloak," said Harry under his breath. "No problem."

"No problem at all," another, colder voice said right behind them.

"Bug someone who cares, why don't you?" snapped Draco. "We're busy."

"Very busy," sneered Zabini.

Harry could practically see the sparks of hatred fly from the ex-friends.

Ron had gone whiter than milk. "Go away."

Zabini smiled again but left.

"Can't we change the date?" asked Harry quickly as soon as Zabini was out of earshot.

"No," said Ron. "Hedwig can't make the trip before Saturday comes. We'll have to hope for the best."

"Yeah, hope he didn't hear about the Cloak," muttered Draco, stabbing his porridge more ferociously than normal.

When they told Hagrid about Charlie's plan his eyes filled with tears, although that might've just been because Norbert had sunk his fangs deep into Hagrid's boot. "Arg—on'y playing," said Hagrid. "He's just a baby; nothin' I can' handle."

The baby banged his tail, sending what sounded like shingles sliding off the roof and making the windows rattle. Harry felt like Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

**\ \ / /**

Along with Saturday, however, came the issue of who would carry Norbert to the Astronomy Tower, since the Cloak couldn't cover all of them. Eventually, they drew straws, which only meant that Harry and Hermione would have to go, much to the amusement of Draco and Ron.

"Have fun!" Draco called brightly as they left their room, invisible.

Harry and Hermione made their way down to Hagrid's a little slower than usual but arrived when he was setting up Norbert's traveling cage. To Harry, it resembled a dog's kennel, complete with blankets and a stuffed animal.

"I put his teddy in there, case he gets lonely," said a weepy Hagrid as Hermione and Harry each took an end and heaved. A ripping sound told Harry that teddy was getting his head torn off. "And some brandy and blood, case he gets hungry, and lots o' rats."

Harry felt his hands sweating already and his arm cramping.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" weeped Hagrid. "Mommy'll never forget yeh!"

Harry exchanged an exasperated look with Hermione under the Cloak as they checked every inch was covered. They made the journey up to the Tower extremely slowly; Harry hoped that Mark and Antony would wait for them. One staircase, two, three—even one of Ron's shortcuts didn't make the trip much easier.

Then a loud, barking voice made them freeze and, forgetting they were invisible, vanish into the shadows. From a corridor ahead of them came Professor McGonagall in a tartan bathrobe and hairnet, holding and dragging Zabini by his ear. "Detention!" barked Professor McGonagall. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the dead of night—how _dare_ you?"

"You don't understand, Professor," began Zabini, wincing with every dragged step, "Harry Potter's coming. He's got a dragon!"

"What rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on—we shall see Professor Snape about you, Zabini!"

They rounded a corner and Harry and Hermione lugged the crate-kennel up another curved staircase in silence before Hermione said, "Zabini's in detention! I could sing!" They threw off the Cloak and waited at the top for Mark and Antony. Hermione did a sort of dance.

"Don't," advised Harry. "Slytherin's behind twenty points," he added darkly.

Laughing about Zabini and ways they could earn the extra twenty points, they waited for another ten minutes before two broomsticks descended from the night sky. Both young men jumped off and shook hands, and peeked into the crate.

"Blimey, never thought Hagrid was that nuts," said one of them. "To keep a dragon in that hut of his."

The other snorted. "He had a stuffed bear, too, look at the stuffing."

They started to show the harness and strap the cage between them so that Norbert didn't fall. Harry and Hermione helped to buckle the dragon in and shook hands with the other two, thanked them very much and watched as the brooms and kennel shrunk before finally disappearing.

They threw the Cloak back over them and smiled, their hearts as light as their hands. Zabini in detention—Norbert gone—what could ruin their happiness?

The answer to that was at the bottom of the steps. They had literally ran into Filch, who swung his arms around hopefully. "Who's creeping about invisible? Eh?"

Harry and Hermione tried to go one way but decided to split up. Hoping that Filch didn't know the Trip Jinx, Harry threw the Cloak over Hermione and ran for it. He rounded a corner and jumped down a flight of stairs before he felt someone poke him in the back. Groping for his wand, he heard Hermione hiss, "You idiot! Get back under here!"

She threw the Cloak over both of them and kept up a stream of rebukes, sounding like a hoard of angry bees, all the way back to the Gryffindor portrait, where Harry bid her goodnight and headed for the Slytherin common room.

He took the Cloak off when he saw the wall and said, "Emeralds." The wall shifted like Diagon Alley and Harry bundled the Cloak into a wad and stuck it in his pocket. Good thing, too, otherwise he never would have gotten it back.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Potter," said a snide voice.

Snape was in the common room, looking like he might throttle Zabini, who stood in front of him, gasping his pleas that Harry Potter had a dragon.

Harry had only one thing to the scene in front of him. "Oh, crap."

**\ \ / /**

**I decided to get Harry in trouble another way because I think, as a Slytherin, he'd never forget the Cloak up the stairs.**

**Likey, no likey?**

**(I'll never do that again if you review)**


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